Strikhedonia
by CherryDrug
Summary: She's just a woman who's gone through her entire life with a plan to guide her, but when she suddenly finds herself as the main character of a series where unpredictability is the norm, she gladly rips apart the one thing that has suffocated her for years and thinks, "To hell with it." SI!OC-as-Fem!Luffy and Different!DF. Ratings may change over time.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** "I am not the liable owner or creator of One Piece. I am but a mere humble fan fiction writer."

* * *

 **CHAPTER 1**

 _Her death had happened all too fast for the realization that she was dying had yet to sink in until her bleary eyes took in the horrendous sight of a large and thick metal pipe protruding out from her lower abdomen, its metal casing drenched in the very liquid of her life blood in a grotesque resemblance of a hotdog drenched in a copious amount of ketchup._

 _The first thing that settled in was the excruciating pain from the deep and extremely emphasized puncture in her stomach. She knew she needed to find something to cut the metal into something smaller to stem the blood flow, but there was nothing useful in sight, and she wasn't idiotic enough to pull the tube out of her since that would just result in her dying from blood loss even faster._

 _The second thing that came to mind was that she should be_ screaming— _screaming until her lungs had shriveled up into pathetic and dried up pieces_ — _but she couldn't find the energy to do that, especially when she looked around at the wreckage of the ambulance that the most likely drunk truck driver had caused before he'd cowardly sped away from the accident. She saw her fellow co-workers on the ground, with blood coating their faces, and she feared the worst._

 _Nonetheless, she pushed herself up from the ground_ — _pushed herself while tolerating the pain that came from the miraculously short metal tubing lodged right through her lower abdomen. She knew that even if somebody had already called for help, they wouldn't be here fast enough to save her life; so, she'd done the only thing that she could think of whilst at the last moments of her life: to do her job._

 _She'd dragged herself to her co-workers, checking their pulses to see if they were alive, and she nearly breathed out a sigh of relief when each and every one of their pulses thrummed slowly yet strongly against her fingers. She ripped up her skirt into shreds, long enough to be tied around the more serious injuries of her co-workers and stopping the blood from flowing out._

 _Then finally, when the pain in her stomach had dulled into a numbness and the threat of sleep had started to creep out from the dark crevices of her mind, she stumbled upon her latest and most likely final patient_ — _a little young boy by the name of Angelo who'd been said to have collapsed right after he and his family had dinner; according to his parents, there was a pain in his lower back and lower abdomen that he'd been complaining about, but they'd just assumed that it was because of the new school he'd started in. She'd diagnosed him with appendicitis the moment she felt the swelling from underneath the skin of where his appendix should be, and she'd assured the parents that he'd be fine and by tomorrow morning he'd be safe in the confines of a hospital bed._

 _Suffice to say, she'd nearly had a cardiac arrest when she saw that his dextrose had snapped, and she hurriedly removed its needle from the boy's wrist before any more bacteria could enter the boy's bloodstream._

 _She couldn't find it in herself to breathe out a sigh of relief when she located an unharmed dextrose nearby, too tired to do anything aside from dragging herself to it. Plucking the dextrose from the rubble, she made her way back to Angelo, kneeled down, struggled to find a vein in the boy's wrist, uncapped the needle, then pierced the first vein she'd seen and sealed it off with the tape that had held the previous dextrose after wiping out the blood that had spurted out with the clean handkerchief she'd hidden in her pocket._

 _She checked the boy's pulse, mentally berating herself for not doing that in the first place, and her shoulders relaxed when she felt a steady and strong thrum from his pulse._

 _She looked around one last time at the people that she'd managed to help, and that's when she spotted a young man running out of the convenience store and towards the wreckage that she was in. She smiled at him when he neared her, feeling a little bit amused when his eyes widened at the grotesque image of a metal pipe coming out of her abdomen, and she was momentarily surprised to see his mouth move yet not hear any words reach her ears._

 _He came over to her, cradling her in one arm whilst the other moved to hover over the tube in her body._

 _"No," she told him, but even she couldn't hear her own voice. "Help...the others," she said, and coughed out and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand; unsurprised to see that blood had stained the entirety of the appendage. "It's too late for me," she told him after a long while of painful breathing._

 _But the young man seemed persistent in helping her, because he shook his head and told her something that she couldn't quite understand with deafened ears._

 _"No," she repeated, placing her cleaner hand over his, and she noticed that he was trembling. Poor guy, he was most likely going to be traumatized by this event. "Help...them. Call 9...1...1. They'll...need it...more...than I...do," she said with difficulty, coughing out loudly and muttering an apology when her blood sprayed onto his dark green shirt that was slowly starting to gray out now that she noticed._

 _Her body was starting to fail her. First her hearing, then her sense of taste, now her eyesight, and then her sense of touch would disappear which would happen when her organs finally collapsed altogether from the strain of her large wound._

 _She closed her eyes, prepared to accept her death with open arms. She'd lived a fulfilling life, done her job to the very end just as she'd always wanted to, and now she could finally let go of the last sliver of life inside of her._

 _And then, with the numbness engulfing her entire being and the darkness caging her consciousness in its unrelenting hold, she slipped away into what felt like death._

 _And for once in her entire life, she felt that she was truly at peace with herself._

* * *

Only for that peace to be ripped away from her when she wakes up with a resounding cry at the tremendous and unavoidable throbbing that comes from her _entire_ body. When she opens her eyes, she is immediately blinded by a great white light that makes her head ache even more, and she closes her eyes to get rid of the pain as she _wails_ and _wails_ out her agony at the feeling of her entire body being encased by the smoldering flames of what should be hell at this very moment.

But then, the pain ceases when she feels something _big_ and _warm_ wrap itself around her body, and she's only realized that it weren't the very flames of hell that were hurting her but the icy sensation of the cool wind that was freezing her body to the point of pain. She releases another cry, this time one out of confusion _because where is she? What happened? Why is she still alive?_

And she is most surprised when she feels her body being cradled into something even _bigger_ and _warmer_ , and she swears that her heart had stopped beating for a few seconds when she hears a voice from above speak.

"Luffy..." The voice speaks, but she doesn't dare open her eyes, in fear of seeing something that she doesn't _want_ to see. "...Come to finally see the big wide world, haven't you?" The voice is feminine, and it speaks in a lilting and loving voice that makes her finally open her eyes once she's deemed it say enough to open her eyes slowly to prevent getting blinded by the great white light.

"...Oh," the blurry image of a woman with her hair sticking to her sweaty face appears, and all she could do is blink out the blurriness in her eyes to get a better picture. "You have your father's eyes..." the woman says with teary eyes, and all she can do in reply is blink up at the unknown woman.

Who...is this?

"What are you talking about?" A gruff voice says from the side, and she has to crane her neck to get a good look at the person. She nearly emits out a cry of fear at the blurry yet _obviously_ terrifying features of the man seated right beside the woman, but she manages to swallow it down and replace it with a cautious and wary stare at the man. "She has _your_ eyes," he grunts, but there's something in the tone of his voice that's soft despite its roughness.

The woman blushes a bit at that comment, and looks down at her with inquisitive eyes. "...Huh. You're right," and then the woman suddenly laughs out loud. "Thank goodness Luffy does! I don't know what I'd do if she inherited any parts of _your_ face," the woman laughs, whilst the man growls out in a threatening kind of way that makes her huddle into the comforts of the woman's cradle.

It takes her a few more minutes to connect the pieces together—blame it on her shock from _dying_ just a few minutes ago, okay?—but once she does, she can literally feel her entire brain _malfunctioning_ at the thought of being _reincarnated_ and in the body of a _newborn baby_. She doesn't know what else to do, hasn't decided yet _what_ to do, but it's only when she feels her new mother(?) rock her in her arms with the tune of a soft yet hypnotizing lullaby, does she decide what she should do first.

Getting some well deserved sleep.

* * *

Being a newborn baby is honestly boring—especially when she's lived what she supposes is an exciting life with adrenaline pumping through her veins as she struggles to save a person's life with only the knowledge in her head and the limited amount of tools in hand to help her—and it's really _humiliating_ , since she can't just stand up and waltz to the nearest bathroom to take a piss or a shit. It's a horrifying experience that she wishes she'll never have to live consciously through _again_ , because having to personally cry out for her mother's attention because you had no choice but to soil yourself? It's _terrible_ and _embarrassing._

She's a grown woman, for goodness's sake! Albeit a grown woman in a baby's body, but a grown woman nonetheless!

But she learns to adapt to being a baby again, and learns a few more things about the new life she's living as.

Her name is supposed to be Luffy. She doesn't know if it's a nickname of sorts, but that's what her new parents call her. It's a name she's familiar with, because it's identical to the name of the main character of an anime she'd watched since she was but a young girl, and she doesn't know whether she should feel flattered or creeped out because she had a _crush_ (as in, a big, fat, fangirl _crush_ ) on Luffy from One Piece because, well, he was _funny_ , okay? And he had the courage of a Gryffindor and he was willing to die for his _nakama_ , and damn, did any of you see his abs? Especially after that two-year timeskip? She'd admit that her hormones had gone out of whack during her puberty stage after seeing _those_ babies, okay?

And don't even get her _started_ with Zoro's or Mihawk's or Shank's or Ace's abs, because she'll just be waxing _poetry_ about those particular parts of their body for _hours_.

Anyways, back to the point, her new name is Luffy, and she has no idea where the hell she is. Oh, she can tell that they're on a boat, what with the way the entire room rocks every now and then as well as the sound of waves crashing against the side of the boat which is what's helped lull her to sleep at least four times a day—and her theory of being reincarnated as _the_ Luffy from One Piece seems even more real no matter how much she tries to shove it in the back of her head.

She doesn't know the name of her parents, because they keep referring to one another as 'dear' or 'love' or 'idiot' sometimes, much to her irritation, but it's only when her eyesight has cleared up after a month does she _actually_ get a much clearer and better view of her father, which promptly makes her burst out into tears much to her parents's worry.

Because only an idiot or someone who isn't familiar with the plot and characters of One Piece would never recognize her new father—who's as scary looking as he's depicted in the series. With his slicked back, spiky black hair and sharp eyes with the left one framed by a tribal-like tattoo the color of blood itself, her father is none other than the infamous leader of the Revolutionary, _Monkey D. Dragon_.

And that's when she _truly_ believes that she's _Luffy_ —as in _the Luffy_ , as in that gluttonous rubber man who's life's goal is to be the Pirate King and who's survived through millions of situations where he should've died in but _hasn't_ because of his otherworldly luck!—and she feels lost because there's _no way_ she can be _that_ Luffy, _no way_ she can go through what _he_ had.

So, she deals with her problems as she's always had, shoving them to the back of her mind to mull over for _later_ , and continues to enjoy her life as a baby for as long as she can.

* * *

It's usually her mother who takes care of her; which is why it's a huge surprise to her when the door swings open and in walks in her nightmare of a father with his heavy boots loudly creaking the wooden floorboards underneath.

She looks up at him with big, black eyes and she tilts her head at him when he nears her. She stops herself from flinching when he suddenly scoops her up in his big arms, but she _does_ wiggle around before she settles comfortably in the crook of his elbow. When her eyes meet his, it takes all of her willpower to _not_ look away, because there's something in them that says he's judging her for her worth and seeing what she could offer him despite her tiny size.

So, she does what she's always done to melt the heart of her mother right after she's been fed; she brings her arm up and pats her father where his heart should be, because that's as high as she can reach him for now, and she gives him a big, wide, and toothless smile that she hopes conveys her adoration for him because he's a Revolutionary leader for fuck's sake, and he deserves all the respect he gets, wanted criminal or not.

He blinks down at her, looking as if he's assessing her for one long moment, before the corners of his own lips stretch out into one hell of a grin that could make any lesser baby cry out in fear.

She manages to stop herself from becoming a lesser baby.

"You have your mother's smile too," he says, scary eyes looking softer than before, with _so much_ love and affection in both his gaze and voice, as he rocks her in his arms.

She doesn't know what to do but enjoy the feeling of warmth and protection and love enveloping her into an embrace as she leans in closer to her father's chest, listening to the hypnotizing sound of his heartbeat, and silently dreading what would become of their little family in the future because she _wants_ this and she _doesn't want_ to let it go.

She wants to keep this happiness.

* * *

When she first learns how to stand up and shakily walk on her own, she's at least eight months old, a month too early for the average baby to walk, but neither of her parents notice this because she's their first child and neither of them take mind to it because they're too busy gushing (more of her mother, and less of her father) about this new milestone she's accomplished.

When she turns a year old, her first birthday is spent in the confines of her room, the only place she's ever been in this new life, but her parents are there the whole day to make it more _special_ than the average day. Her mother tells her stories—tales of the old that's been passed down from generation to generation in every island she's been in, and stories about warrior princesses fighting for their right for freedom and true yet forbidden love—whilst her father cradles her in her arms as they sit on the ground, with him adding in his own personal comments about her mother's exaggerated way of storytelling with rolling eyes.

And then, once the sun's rays has stopped filtering in through the tiny window in her room, and as they tuck her to bed in her crib, her parents share a look that Luffy can't identify for the life of her, and the look that they share scares her and rocks her to the very core with fear and dread, and she wonders if now is the time they should be part, but her worry subsides when her mother leans in to kiss her on the forehead with soft lips, and a whisper of sweet dreams and I love you, and her father surprisingly does the same to her.

But it's only when she speaks her first word, does her happiness come crumbling down on her like shattered glass.

* * *

It's been two whole months since her birthday, and two whole weeks since she's seen her father come into her room with a broken look on not only his face but in his eyes as well. His shoulders are stiff and there's a suffocating aura around him when he nears her that almost sets her into tears, but she remembers that he would never harm her when he picks her up and cradles her in his arms, his chin placed directly on top of her head that's starting to grow some hair.

The distinct and very familiar smell of blood enters her nostrils when she buries her face in his neck, and already she fears the worst for her mother when she feels her father's shoulders tremble ever so slightly.

And for two whole weeks, it's only her father who takes care of her. He changes her diapers all the time; sometimes, there are times when he forgets to feed her, but never once has he left her to starve for an entire day. He puts her to bed every night, with a kiss on her forehead, and that sad and lost look in his eyes.

And not once has she seen any sign of her mother.

A few more weeks pass, and as each day passes, her father starts looking much worse than the day before. She notices the eyebags underneath his eyes, the tired and weary way he holds himself, and the smiles he gives her have dimmed until only a small amount of light is left in there.

She doesn't know how to comfort him, aside from patting the part underneath his chin and snuggling into his chest. Smiling brightly at him would just damage him even more, because she can tell that now is a time of mourning and not of happiness.

And she mourns in her own way too—when her father's long left and it's been way too long in the night, she buries her face into the softness of her pillow and cries out silently because _her mother's gone_ , and she doesn't even know if she's alive or not. Some daughter she is, huh?

* * *

On one faithful day that she'll never ever forget for the life of her, her father brings her outside of her room for the first time since she's been born. She's never known how much she's missed being outside until the familiar and oh so beautiful bright blue sky appears in her vision and she's left blinking up in awe at her new surroundings.

The heat of the sun's rays beat down on her tiny head, the familiar sound of the waves crashing to and fro the side of the admittedly small ship they're in enters her ears in much higher hertzes, the unfamiliar salty scent of the ocean drifts into her nostrils and she finds that it isn't an unpleasant scent in the least but more of a pleasant one that makes her relax even more in her father's cradle.

And, much to her surprise, there seems to be another ship right by them with a single wooden plank connecting the two boats. Alarmed, she looks around to see if her father had any companions around, and she feels her heart jump straight into her throat when she realizes that there is nobody else on deck aside from her and her father.

"Shh," her father murmurs quietly, rocking her in his arms in an effort to calm her down. And, much to her surprise, he hides her underneath the darkness of his cloak to obstruct anybody's view of her, which honestly doesn't do much to appease her worry and concern. Shifting a bit, she sits up a little bit straighter and peeks through a small hole that she's managed to locate in her father's cloak.

Her gaze immediately drifts towards the other ship, which is easily thrice as big as their own ship, with a dark blue interior and a large mast that proudly displays the shadowed figure of a dark blue seagull with what looks like a narrow wrench below. But it's the words written underneath the symbol that makes her tense up.

 ** _MARINE_**.

And, not even a full second after, she hears shouts coming from the Marine ship before a humongous figure dressed in white boards the plank and struts towards their own boat with a calm yet determined gait. It's the tanned skin and greying, spiky hair and scruffy beard that gives the new person's identity away, and she instinctively curls closer to her father's chest when she sees the furious look in those dark eyes despite the calm mask that's placed over it.

"...Dragon," Garp— _a well-respected and well-feared Marine, the so called 'Hero of the Marines' because of his tremendous strength and great skill to be able to corner the Pirate King several times, and her_ grandfather _of all things_ —acknowledges with a casual air.

"...Father..." Her own father acknowledges back, and she can tell by the way he shifts that he's _nervous_ about something.

She feels dread settle within the bottom of her stomach when she realizes that _this_ might be when her father gives her up to her grandfather.

"Why'd you call me out here? In East Blue of all places too?" Garp demands, straight to the point, as he crosses his arms over his broad chest, his mouth set into a displeased scowl. "And what gave you the balls to even call me out here in the first place, huh? Especially after that last stunt you pulled?"

Her father shifts again in place, and she stills reflexively when he adjusts his hold on her. Unfortunately for her, it seems that Garp had noticed her moving underneath her father's cloak, and she can see the greyed eyebrow her grandfather raises.

"And what's that you got there in your arms? Planning on attacking me with some kind of secret weapon?" Garp asks, sounding _amused_ of all things, the furious look in his eyes instantly disappearing, only to be replaced with delight. "BWAHAHAHA! Don't underestimate your old man just because I'm old, you brat!" He roars out loud with infectious laughter.

Her father starts shifting again. "No...I have a request," he says, adjusting his cradle on her once more. "I need you to take care of something for me," he continues, before he's cut off by Garp.

"Take care of something?" And there's a sharp edge to his voice this time that makes her shrink back as she feels the air around them shift into something tense and heavy that makes it harder for her to breathe in. "Dragon, if this is another—"

"I have a daughter," her father states bluntly, and she can see through the peep hole that Garp's words immediately die out in his throat, a shocked expression making its way onto his wrinkled face. "And I need you to take care of her for me," her father requests.

There is a brief silence that encompasses the heavy air around them, until Garp breaks it with a sharp inhale of breath. "...A daughter?" He questions, as if he's unable to believe such a thing. "You have a _child_?" He asks, sounding bemused and surprised all at once. "Since when?"

"Since last year," her father answers easily enough, and she can feel that sharp nod that he gives. Then, he brings her out from the cloak to reveal her to Garp, who intakes another sharp and disbelieving breath once his gaze lands on her. "Her name is Luffy. She was born on the fifth of May and she'd turned a year old three months ago," he introduces her.

She blinks a few times at Garp before she looks up at her father with a tilt of her head, eyebrows drawn together and bottom lip sticking out with a tremor.

He doesn't pay any heed to her, not even bothering to glance down at her.

"...Will you take care of her for me?" Her father asks once again, and there's nothing on his face to betray the sudden constriction of his throat that she can see from his arms.

"W-Where's her mother?" Garp stutters out, a rare feat indeed, and he looks much more lost than her father as he looks at her with wide eyes.

The deafening silence around them is answer enough, and she can see Garp swallow with sweat beading down his forehead.

It's an amusing sight to be honest, and she would've laughed if her father wasn't giving her up.

"Will you take care of her for me?" Her father repeats the question, and she curls her hands around the soft fabric of his shirt until she's gripping them tightly with fists that are starting to pale in color. She doesn't _want_ to be separated from her father, canon storyline be _damned._ This is _her_ life dammit and she's not willing to give it all away again just because she'd been reincarnated as the main character of a popular anime. She has a _choice_ in this, but it seems, with this tiny one-year old body of hers, she doesn't really have a lot of options around.

But when she sees the look on Garp's face that's reluctant and unwilling at best, she starts deluding herself with hopes that this storyline might be different—that Garp will deny taking care of her and she'll be left in the safety of her father's supervision as she grows older under his sharp eyes—but her hopes are shattered when the expression on his face hardens with what seems like determination as he holds her arms out to take her.

 _No_. Her fists instinctively tighten on their hold on her father's shirt, and she feels betrayed when her father walks towards Garp without a single word, easily breaking her grip from his shirt, and depositing her into the much larger arms of his own father.

Almost immediately, she starts squirming in Garp's hold, because _she doesn't want to be here, she wants to be with her father. She wants familiarity in this big and scary world where she'll get hurt and experience dying several times._

"Raise her well for me," her father says; for the first time looking down at her so that their gazes could meet since he'd brought her up to the deck to see the outside world for the first time in her new life. She can see the way his eyes soften for her, a solemnly sad expression on his face—and she realizes right then and there that he doesn't want to give her up but he _has_ to because she'll just be a liability for him, a weakness that any of his enemies could exploit, extra luggage that will only bring him down in his quest to overthrow the World Government and to revolutionize the entire world itself; even so, her eyes well up with big, fat tears and she selfishly reaches her arms out to him, a silent plea to take her back.

He gives her a small smile, pats her on the head a few times, and takes a step back that makes both her heart crack and her stomach drop. "You be good now, okay?" He tells her, and she whimpers at him in reply. His hand digs into one of the many pockets of his pants, and he pulls something out from within its depths to show it to her.

When she catches sight of the item, her tears don't stop, but her whimpers do.

The locket is silver in color, suspended in the air by a thin chain that looks as if it could easily break. Its surface gleams temptingly as the sun's rays hit it, and she can tell that her own dark eyes are gleaming back at it as she stares at it with no little amount of interest.

But her father doesn't give it to her; instead, he hands it over to Garp under her watchful gaze. "Here," her father says as Garp accepts it with his other hand, curiously fiddling with it around the meaty appendages that are his fingers. "That belonged to her mother. Give it to Luffy once she's old enough," he instructs Garp who slowly nods in affirmation.

"Will I be expecting any future visits from you?" Garp asks with a drawl of his tongue, adjusting his cradle on her until he gives up when she struggles once more and lets her sit upright on the bulk of his arm with her back pressed against his chest and his other hand going around her to keep her from falling.

"No," her father immediately answers. "It'll just attract unwanted attention. It's best if I'm not there when she grows up," he elaborates.

"Are you sure you really want to give her to me?" Garp asks her, looking down at her with the same dark eyes that she has. He doesn't smile at her, neither does he scowl at her, so she's not really sure what his opinion of her is.

"...It's for the best," her father answers after a long moment.

"I see..." Garp notes. "...You take care of yourself too, Dragon. And put some meat in your bones too, you're looking a tad bit thinner than last time," he scolds and her father nods in reply. Garp nods as well and turns around with a sweep of his Marine jacket that billows wildly when a particularly strong wind drifts by.

Alarmed that she's now being taken away, she twists around in Garp's arm and pushes herself up with the shaky support of gripping his broad, wide shoulders that are embellished with his honorary rank pins of being a Vice-Admiral in the Marines. She shakily stands up until her chin is well above her grandfather's right shoulder, and when she sees the way her father is looking at them—with longing and sadness and shame on his face—she feels something deep inside of her just _crack_ , and before she knows it, she's opening her mouth and screaming the words she's been working hard to say every single night just to see her parents' face light up with joy and pride.

 _"PAPA!"_

Her father's head immediately snaps up, surprise flickering over his features at her unexpected action.

She pauses as well—it's the first coherent word she's ever uttered in this new world she's been shoved into—but once she realizes that her vocal practices at night has finally paid off, she lets the lock that she's been keeping on herself crumble down, and she's positively spitting with desperate cries of _"No,"_ of _"Papa,"_ and of the two words combined until Garp's landed on the deck of his own ship and her throat is starting to hurt from all her screaming.

Garp turns around, which makes her twist back around as well so that she could see the distant form of her father who looks oh so very far away from the ship she's grown up in.

A flood of tears flow freely down her cheeks by then, staining Garp's beefy arm when she reaches out one last time and puts all of the strength of her lungs into this one last scream that's filled with the same grief that doesn't stop swelling within her chest and right next to her frantically beating heart.

 _"PAPA!"_

"LUFFY!" Her father shouts back, much to her and Garp's surprise. "THIS WON'T BE THE LAST TIME I SEE YOU!" He announces. "WE'LL MEET AGAIN. ONE DAY, IN THE FUTURE. THIS, I PROMISE TO YOU _,_ " he vows with such strength, with such _honesty_ in his words that makes the grief in her chest bloom open with newfound hope that _this won't be their last meeting_.

She hiccups one last, rubs the corners of her eyes with tiny hands, and she bobs her up and down several times to show that she's holding onto his promise.

Her father's lips stretch into a wide, big, and teeth-filled grin that's _absolutely **terrifying**_ —but it's the most beautiful thing she's ever seen since the disappearance of her mother's presence in her life.

His grin makes the heavy burden in heart—the weight of an entire story on her shoulders—feel lighter than ever, and it makes her think that she has _choices_ in this life, that if she chooses to follow through the entire storyline of One Piece, she'll be able to go through what the original Luffy had gone through and _survive_.

It's a comforting thought that she keeps close to both her heart and mind as she watches her father sail away with everything she'd started with in this new life.

* * *

 _And so the story begins anew._

* * *

 **AN** : So then, yeah! Ta-da! Another story, but this time in a new fandom! Ahahaha, I want to apologize to those who've been waiting for me to update _Are You The One?_ and _Blessings in Disguise_ and _In Which Miracles Do Happen_ ahahaha. I'm somewhat of an idiot, to be completely honest, because when you guys reviewed to bless me with more Plot Bunnies, those bunnies hopped away to a different fandom section...which eventually gave birth to this new story ahahaha. Anyways, aside from that, I'd like to give a major, _major_ , shoutout to _Izukey_ and every single one of their stories. I've never talked to them/him/her (let's just stick with them cause I'm not sure of their gender ahaha) but I am a big fan; I've never reviewed any of their stories...I think, because I'm usually too lazy to do that ahahaha, gomen gomen _Izukey_ ahaha, I'll make up for it in this AN. Anyways, all of their stories (they're all amazing, I advice you check out their profile and read their stories) have inspired me to create _Strikehedonia_ , one of them being _Sol Invictus_. Now, I'll try my best not to make a replica of their work, because I respect them deeply and I've experienced such things wherein other people get another person's idea without even crediting the original writer. I'll do my best to deviate from _Sol Invictus_ , aside from the SI!OC thing, gender, name, and blah blah blah. This Luffy I'll be creating will be different—sure we'll still have the same loud, boisterous, and crazy rubberman we all love, but there are times when you'll _notice_ the difference because canon!Luffy is a character of their own, and I don't want to spit on their image by making an exact (and perfect) replica of him in female version just so that I could match female!Luffy with everybody (which I might do lolz, I'm such a hypocrite HAHAHA) but I'll try to make my Luffy different without destroying as much of the original Luffy's person

 **Questions:**

 **Who's the OC that's been reincarnated as Luffy?** Well for me, the OC I've created is still nameless (I'll appreciate any recommendations 'cause I'm terrible at naming OCs ahaha) but as you've read at the first part, the OC had been a medical doctor in her first life. To be more precise, she was a general surgeon, and the way she died was that there was a drunk driver (let's call him Ken)—so anyways, _Ken_ was driving drunk very late into the night and accidentally rammed into a speeding ambulance, who coincidentally enough had our OC in it and her latest patient and her team of doctors and of course the ambulance driver. Long story short, ambulance got wrecked, many people got injured, Ken drove away in fear, OC gets a big metal pipe in her stomach, she decides to treat everybody to the best of her capability even if she has a wound, then dies in the arms of a unknown young man (let's go with a 7/11 employee hahaha) who's 100% traumatized by what'd happened lol.

 **Mother...?** She'll remain anonymous (name, appearance, and status) for now, since she has yet to appear or be formally introduced by Oda-sensei.

 **Loving Dragon?!** Yeah, yeah I know, pretty OOC! But I gotta admit, even if Dragon looks, well, _scary_ , I can't help but assume that Dragon just _really loves_ his child, whether male or female. I portray him as someone who's not exactly sure of showing his love to his child at first, before he grows use to it and he isn't so hesitant anymore hahaha.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** "I am not the liable or creator of One Piece. I am but a mere humble fan fiction writer."

* * *

 _"One day,  
_ _There'll come a time when you,  
_ _Will find your own way,  
_ _In this great, wide sea of Blue."_

 _Her mother sang softly as she cradled her close to her chest, where she could hear her mother's comforting and most beautiful heartbeat._

 _"On rippling tides,  
_ _'Neath glittering stars,  
_ _Cast your worries aside,  
_ _For this dream of ours."_

 _Her mother held the note for a while longer, before she continued on, undeterred with the loud rumbling of the storm raging outside._

 _"Let your heart soar up high to the ever blue skies,  
_ _So keep your happiness deep within your core,  
And rest yourself and close your eyes,  
_ _For there's always tomorrow to go for."_

 _Her mother finally finished, looking down at her with sparkling eyes filled with so much love. Her mother rocked her in her arms for a few more times before she placed her in the crib to tuck her to sleep. "Good night, Luffy," her mother said, smiling beautifully and warmly. "Don't ever forget that you're our treasure, alright?" Her mother asked. "You're the most precious thing that your father and I have ever had, so take care of yourself for us please," her mother ended, caressing her cheek with her thumb, and giving another one of those pretty smiles and loving gazes of hers, before her very figure distorted._

 _Then everything turned dark._

* * *

On the first day after her father had given her up to Garp, she wakes up slowly from a much-appreciated memory of her mother. The drowsy haze that clouds her mind is starting to disperse, making way for her consciousness to come out. She blinks once, twice, thrice, and it takes her a long moment to realize that the white thing she's been looking at since she'd woken up is the ceiling.

She brings her hands up to rub the sleepiness and morning star out of her eyes, and yawns widely soon after.

"Oh. You're awake," a gruff voice startles her, which makes her accidentally poke her eye through her rubbing. She winces and cradles the left side of her face with both of her tiny hands, whimpering softly at the pain that blooms strongly. "Sorry, sorry," the gruff voice sounds apologetic, and she feels big hands going underneath her armpits to lift her up from her soft bed. "Here, let me see that," he—since the voice sounds like it would belong to a man—says, but she shakes her head in denial because she can take care of herself, thank you very much. "Don't be stubborn, you brat. Just let me see it," the man says, before her hands are easily ripped away from her face, and a much bigger hand cradles her cheek. "C'mon now. Open your eyes and let me see it," he says, softer this time and in a much kinder voice.

She hesitates for a moment, before her eyelids flutter open and she blinks a few times to soothe the pain in her left eye. She immediately sees Garp, with a concerned expression twisting his features, and she leans back a bit because he's _really_ close to her to the point that she feels her personal bubble's about to explode.

"A little redness in your eye, but you'll live," Garp says, the concerned expression on his face sagging into one of relief.

An silence that's heavily awkward occupies the atmosphere around, and she wiggles a bit since her armpits are starting to hurt from being suspended up in the air. Garp notices this and immediately cradles her to his chest, but she's reluctant to lean her head against his chest. It's not like she's afraid or anything—okay, now that's a big fat lie because this man can easily crush her head with maybe a powerful flick of his finger, and _that alone_ scares her—but she doesn't think she's ready to accept anybody else in her fold of loved ones after having just lost her beloved parents.

Her heart twists at the thought of her parents— _of a loving and funny mother with exaggerated tales of adventure and soft kisses on the forehead and cheeks; of a loving and inexperienced father with a terrifying grin that could move the oceans itself and a warm chest that's comfortable to lean against_ —but she shoves that sadness inside of her because she doesn't want to cry, especially in front of somebody else even though that somebody is supposed to be her grandfather.

"You don't look like your father," Garp says all of a sudden, pulling her out of her train of thoughts. She tilts her head at him, bemused, and she feels a little bit relieved when he elaborates. "Your father already had that demon-thing going for him since he'd been born. All scary eyes and when he _smiled_ it was _terrifying._ His mother, your grandma, used to always tell your father to smile a little less scary, but the more she told him the more it got scary. Personally, I didn't see anything wrong with it since he'd have made a good Marine but..." Garp trails off, before he shrugs helplessly. "It wasn't the life for him, apparently," he says, grinning widely despite the disappointed tone in his voice. "But you on the other hand, you look like a Loris or a Tarsier, with your big eyes," he says and, to emphasize his point, he dramatically widens his eyes until amazingly enough it takes up about half of his face that should be physically possible.

The image is comedic and funny at best, and she guesses that it can only be possible with the whacked out physics of _anime_ , but it's still funny and she can't help the bubble of laughter that bursts out of her mouth.

"Finally smiled, huh?" Garp notes, laughing so strongly to the point his chest vibrates with his mirth. "That's good. Wouldn't be good if you grew up all sad and depressed, especially since I'm the one who'll raise you. What will my colleagues think?" He says, laughing out loud once more.

Eventually the laughter dies out and the silence returns, but the silence this time around is no longer heavy with awkwardness but is comfortable enough for her to finally be able to lean against Garp's large chest and listen to the steady beating of his heart.

She doesn't know what will happen next as Garp raises her, but she knows deep down that Garp won't abandon her. He'd stuck with canon!Luffy to the end and though he wasn't exactly supportive of canon!Luffy's goal to become the Pirate King, he was still _proud_ of what his grandson had accomplished in his life as a pirate.

It's a comforting thought, in the least. That she won't be abandoned once again, and that Garp wouldn't kill her if she ever did betray him to become a pirate.

"I'll take care of you," he tells her as she's being lulled to sleep by the sound of his heart. "I won't let anything happen to you under my watch," is the last thing she hears before she succumbs to the temptation of a dreamless sleep.

* * *

The first time she meets a character that she isn't related to is the time she's about to roll out of the bed she'd shared with Garp since he'd gotten her. She's been spending her time for _three days straight_ just crawling on the bed and listing down all 216 bones in order without fail, so you can't really blame her if she's gotten tired with listing down bones and acting as if the thick comforter is some kind of harsh military obstacle that she has to crawl under from one side and reach the other as fast as she can.

Her plan starts with throwing all the available pillows on the bed to the ground, making sure to make a wide enough bedding for her to safely land in. It's only when the door opens does her attention stray away from her task and she curiously turns to look at the newcomer with big eyes because _uh-oh, she's been caught!_

The man in the doorway is not Garp, that much she's able to comprehend. He's much lankier and shorter compared to the behemoth size of Garp. His suit is grey and the embellishments on the shoulders of his Marine jacket are of a different color and fewer in medals, and there is a long katana strapped to the right side of his hip with a grey fedora placed on his head to shadow his eyes.

She blinks dumbly at the unknown person, but her attention is quickly averted back to her current task at hand when she realizes that she's lost her balance and is now falling forward to the heap of pillows down under.

An "oof!" escapes her mouth as she lands safely. She hears footsteps hurrying over to her, so she rolls herself on her back just in time to catch the concerned expression on the unfamiliar man's face be replaced with shock. She stares at him gaping at her for a very long moment, before the amusement that she's been holding in is no longer containable and she grins cheekily at him as a giggle slips out of her mouth.

"Aye!" She greets, as a replacement for him, simply because it sounds silly for a one year old to say and she's feeling like she's in one of her sugar rush even though Garp has forgotten to feed her this morning for the first time.

She can't see it, but she guesses that the man is blinking down at her. "...Hello," is his reply, and he sounds confused and wary of _her_ , a _one-year old baby_ , who doesn't even know how to properly _walk_ yet. Then, carefully, he picks her up by the armpits but even his hold is unsure and unsteady which makes it obvious that he's never handled a kid before. "...So you're Vice-Admiral Garp's granddaughter, huh?" He says, more to himself than to her, as he sets her down on the bed.

She pouts, looking down at the pillows with longing because she was so close to her freedom.

It seems like the unfamiliar man notices her longing gaze, because he snorts and his lips twitches upwards into a small smile. "Were you the one who threw all those pillows on the ground?" He asks her, to which she nods to in reply. "How come?"

"'em bowed," is her simple and slightly slurred answer before she looks away from him and back at the pillows down low. She knows that she shouldn't feel this comfortable around a stranger because first of all, it's a stupid move to trust a complete stranger, but if memory serves her right then this must be Garp's second-in-command who, for the life her, she can't remember the name _of_ , but she knows she can be assured by the information that he wouldn't dare harm her. For now. And besides, he hasn't done anything to insult her or scare her so all's good. "I want dewn," she elaborates, wincing when she gets the syllable wrong because of her stupid and clumsy tongue. She really wants to speak properly. Baby talk has its perks and all, but she wants to talk _properly_ for goodness's sake.

And then, an idea pops up in her head, and she feels hope and excitement bubble up inside of her.

She looks up at him, making sure to widen her eyes just a bit and activate her baby charms. "Out!" She answers. "Out!" She demands then, pointing at the main door.

The man looks at the door before turning back to look at her. "Out...?"

She nods vigorously. "Out!" Then, to emphasize her point, she raises her arms out to him. "Pwease?" She says, her l comedically mushing into a w.

The man looks hesitant and when he looks about ready to refuse her request, she brings out the big guns.

Jutting her lower lip out even more and widening her eyes as much as she can, she fake sniffs and looks up at him with the most pathetic expression she can muster. It'd worked with both of her parents when she wanted to stay up a little bit longer at night, so she's sure it would work on this guy too.

And, as she'd predicted, he fell for it hook, line, and _sinker_.

"Alright," the man says, heaving out a very big and very loud sigh. "Come 'ere, you," he picks her up by the armpits and cradles her close to his chest. She wiggles for a bit, struggling to find a comfortable place because this man isn't as big as Garp nor is he as wide-chested as her father; eventually, she manages to find a comfortable spot in his arms but she doesn't lean against his chest.

"Out!" She commands, clapping her hands afterwards when the man does as she says.

The minute they step out of the room, she's immediately hit with the pleasant sight of the sea. She closes her eyes to bask underneath the sunlight, enjoying the way it warms up her face. The sound of the waves rocking against the bottom of the ship is soothing to her ears, a lullaby that's helped her slip into a dreamless sleep every night.

She smiles softly as a breeze drifts by, before she feels her stomach rumble almost silently as if its whispering to her that she hasn't eaten yet. Determined to get some food in her system, she looks up at the man, noticing for the first time that he's a blonde now that she's really close to him. "Garp?" She asks, tilting her head at him.

"You want to see your grandfather?" The man asks her, and she nods her head up and down in agreement. "Oh, he's over there, you see?" The man says, pointing at what seems to be a veranda with only a pair of beach chairs and an umbrella furnishing it. She notices quite quickly that one of the beach chairs is occupied, and she recognizes the head that easily peeps over it.

"Garp!" She calls out to as the man nears the vice-admiral, and she feels happiness flood her entire body when she sees that she's managed to catch Garp's attention for he looks over his shoulder to see who in the world could be calling for him. "Garp!" She calls out once again, waving at him and giving him a big, teeth-filled grin.

"Luffy?" Garp says, looking surprised that she's in front of him, and even more so that she's said _his name_. "What is the meaning of this, Bogard?" Garp asks, taking her from the man— _Bogard_ , apparently. What a unique name—and cradling her close to his chest. She leans against him, immediately feeling comfortable in his large arms because she's so used to men with big arms carrying her around that it's just plain out weird if any other male smaller carried her. Her mother was an exception though, because though she was small, her breasts served as good pillows.

"She wanted to see you," is Bogard's clipped answer.

And Garp blinks at that, looking surprised at such a notion. "...You wanted to see me?" He asks, looking down at her, and she looks up at him with a tilt of her head. They stare at one another for a while, before she bobs her head up and down.

"Milk!" She demands from him, lips set in a grim line. "Milk!" She demands again after a few long moments of no response from him.

And the response she garners from him is unexpected, but she should've expected that since he was a part of the Monkey family and no Monkey was ever normal. "BWAHAHAHAHA!" Garp throws his head back to unleash a powerful laugh that could easily last a few minutes. Once it dies down, Garp looks down at her with a wide grin and his eyes _practically_ glittering. "You're definitely my granddaughter!" He booms proudly, rubbing the top of her head with his beefy hand. "Come!" He says, getting up from his seat and easily towering over Bogard. "Let's go find you something to eat!" He says, before he walks past Bogard and towards a destination that she's not all that familiar with.

However, since she'd been raised politely in her first life, she pushes herself up in her grandfather's arms until her chin is well over his broad shoulders. She waves at Bogard with a bright smile, bidding goodbye to him loudly as she and her grandfather disappear from his sight once they go down a set of stairs.

* * *

A few more weeks pass before the Marine ship _finally_ hits land, and she's surprised to find herself deeply upset at the thought of being separated by Garp's crew. They're a good bunch, she's completely sure of that, because once they got over the animosity of her having once been in the custody of Dragon—she can't help but feel amused that _none_ of them, aside from Bogard but even _he_ isn't sure, have deduced that _she's_ the daughter of the ever-feared Revolutionary leader, with each and every one of them assuming that Garp had just adopted her out of pity—they were all pretty generous in showering her with love and attention.

There was never a day that passed where she didn't smile in those times she spent with them.

So yes, she would miss them greatly.

"Bye!" She yells over Garp's shoulder, waving at the crew as she and Garp board down the ship. She feels delighted when a majority of them wave back at her—even Bogard, ever stoic and cool, raises his hand just slightly to wiggle his fingers at her—and she twists around once Garp turns around to bid goodbye to his crew.

"I'LL BE BACK," He yells loudly, and she winces whilst his crew bursts out in exuberant cheers of goodbyes and take cares.

As they stand their on the shore of the beach, they watch the Marine ship cruise away until it disappears from their line of sight.

She looks up at Garp a few moments after the ship's figure disappears from _her_ sight, and she blinks when she sees him narrowing his eyes until they're almost slits, as if he's forcing himself to catch a visage of the Marine ship even if they must be hundreds of miles away by now. Patiently, she settles in the crook of his arm and waits for him.

And the realization of why they're standing here on the shore for so long rams into her like a solid brick wall. It's not because Garp is waiting for the Marine ship to disappear from view—he's _waiting_ because he's making sure that no danger would come to his crew for as long as he can see them. And she's a hundred percent sure that he'd come _flying_ over the ocean just to protect his crew.

Her admiration for Garp grows because it's evident to her that he loves his crew a lot.

* * *

Eventually, they reach a particularly average-sized village with but a few houses littered about. She takes notice of a small port right next to the village, and wonders why they hadn't just docked there instead of a remote beach that's quite far away from the village. She looks around as they venture into the village, taking note of the wide, grassy plain that stretches behind the village with several cows grazing to their hearts content.

It's only when she sees the large windmills that easily towers over the houses does something akin to realization click into place in her mind like a puzzle piece settling into place with the rest of its companions to complete the whole picture.

They were in Foosha Village. The village of windmills. The village where the original Luffy had supposedly been born in and where he grew up and met Red-haired Shanks and gained his Devil Fruit powers to boot.

The first place in the entire world where he'd announced that he would find One Piece and become the Pirate King.

So pardon her if she feels a tad bit starstruck at this revelation.

"GARP!" An enraged voice calls out, immediately snapping her out of her thoughts. She turns her head to face the newcomer, and blinks slowly when she vaguely recognizes the man who is wearing a Rastafarian hat. "What are you doing here?" He demands next.

"BWAHAHAHAHAHA! I came here for my vacation, of course!" Garp laughs boisterously, pointing at his Hawaiian-themed polo and khaki pants. "Oh, and I also came here to introduce you to my cute little granddaughter!" Garp says, holding her out to show her to the bewildered mayor of Foosha village.

She blinks at the man, not really knowing what to do, but she forces her lips into a grin as she waves her hand at him. "Aye!" She greets.

The man looks even more bewildered than before.

"By the way," Garp starts off, bringing her back close to his broad chest. "How's Ace been doing?" He asks excitedly, and she stills at the mention of the name that she'd so absentmindedly forgotten with her excitement and confusion and terror of being birthed as the female version the main protagonist of One Piece.

And everything she's known about the boy—because he's not yet a man, not yet a Pirate, not yet a son of Whitebeard, but just a little boy with major daddy issues and a large dream that'll change in the future and will rock the entire world to its very core—floods into her mind like a broken dam.

Ace. _Ace_. The 2nd Division Commander of the infamous Whitebeard Pirates; the biological son of the late Pirate King, Gol D. Roger who he harbors an immense hatred for; a loving yet rude pseudo-brother to the original Luffy for more than a decade; the legendary Fire-Fist who could burn down an entire ship with a single thrust of his arm; _the one who died at Marine Ford by the hand of a pirate-hating Admiral with a magma-covered arm through his chest that'd been meant for the original Luffy._

Someone that the original Luffy had come to love with all of his heart, but lost to death in the end.

Someone that _she'll_ come to love with all of her, but will only lose to death in the end.

She feels her blood run cold at that very thought.

"That brat?" The mayor says with a pinched look. "Why, he's been wrecking havoc since you brought him here! So yes, Garp. That little devil of yours is doing _just fine_ ," he says with a scowl, but there is no hatred in his voice when he says it, just a very big amount of distaste and weariness. "I pity Dadan for having to take care of the little monster."

"BWAHAHAHAHA!" Garp hows with laughter, throwing his head back to emphasize his amusement with the situation to the point that even _she_ is starting to get a little bit creeped out by him and is leaning away from his as much as she can without the threat of falling down. "He'll make a fine Marine one day, that Ace," Garp states, nodding his head with a sureness that she _laughs at_.

Marine? Pssssh. _As if_. That kid will be spouting that he wants to be a pirate in Garp's face by the time he's _seven_.

"Even your granddaughter agrees with me that Ace isn't fit to be a Marine," the mayor comments, snorting unabashedly. "What's her name, by the way?" He asks, eyeing her with inquisitive eyes.

"Her name's Luffy," Garp introduces her. "Monkey D. Luffy! It fits, right?" He says, grinning brightly and proudly as he looks down at her with gleaming eyes.

She feels warmth bloom within her chest at the expression on his face, and she grins back at him with as much happiness that she can muster.

But it seems the mayor doesn't agree, because his face adopts a deadpanned expression. "Luffy? What kind of name is that?" He asks in an incredulous voice.

And Garp responds with a clueless shrug. "No clue," is his response, making the mayor facefault at such a simple and nonchalant answer. "Dragon was the one who gave it to her, and it doesn't sound half bad, so I didn't bother renaming her."

And just like at that, at the mention of her father's name, color immediately drains away from the mayor's face as his eyes start to widen to the point they could've resembled dinner plates. "DRAGON?!" He exclaims, surprise and horror evident in his voice. "THIS CHILD IS DRAGON'S?!" He exclaims, waving his hands up in the air to emphasize his point and screaming.

Garp raises an eyebrow. "Didn't I just say that she's my granddaughter?"

"You didn't say that she was your _biological granddaughter!_ " The mayor argues loudly, pulling on his hair. "I thought you just adopted her like you did with Ace!"

"Psah! Biological or adopted, they're both my grandchildren! It doesn't matter if we're blood-related or not, because the two of them are still family to me!" Garp announces, his lips set into a firm line. A strong gust of wind picks up and drifts by them, billowing their clothes and hair from its mere strength. For a moment, she feels something heavy and suffocating settle deep within the atmosphere before it disappears swiftly; but the tightness in her throat is enough evidence that there was a distinct shift in the atmosphere above them.

When she looks back at the mayor, he's grown even paler, but it seems that he's strong enough to muster a small nod. "...I see," he says. "I'm guessing that you'll leave her in our care once you leave, am I correct?" He asks.

"Why of course!" Garp answers with a bright grin, and she hardly twitches at his reply because she'd expected it. Garp hadn't been there for most of the original Luffy's childhood, so why should this be any more different? Nevertheless, her stomach drops at that thought and she feels sad that she'll be left in somebody else's care once again as well as a little disappointed in Garp for not being able to fully take care of her. "The ocean's not a safe place for a baby! Especially for my cute little granddaughter! Who knows what'll happen to her if I bring her along with me to work!" He exclaims, sounding and looking aghast at that very thought.

The mayor just stares darkly at Garp for a moment, before he heaves out a loud and very heavy sigh. "Buy me a drink and I'll think about it," is his answer, despite the fact that his shoulders are slump with defeat because it's evident to her that no matter what, if Garp wants something, there's just no denying him unless you want even more trouble.

* * *

The bar they're standing in front of is small at best with only two floors to it. It hardly looks remarkable at all, with aged wood that makes up the building and a signboard that's supposed to spell **PARTYS BAR** in big, bold, and bright green letters; but with a missing letter and paint that's starting to chip away due to old age, it just spells out **PATYS BAR** which is slightly hilarious and sad because the owner must not have enough money to repair the signboard. But even from the outside, she can already feel the homely atmosphere it gives off from within, and she feels a little giddy when they _finally_ step inside.

Despite its small appearance on the outside, the bar seems big enough to house the entire village. There are several sets of wooden tables and chairs scattered about the place, and she can't help but notice that this place must be well-loved because despite its haggard appearance from the outside, its wooden floors gleam with wax and there's not a speck of dust or a puddle of spilt liquid in sight.

An elderly woman stands behind a counter, accompanied by a young lady who she can easily identify as Makino due to the greenish hue to her dark hair and her signature kerchief. The two of them are wiping a few mugs when they approach them.

"Melissa!" Garp greets with a grin like always as he sits down on a barstool with the mayor sitting right next to him. "Nice to see that you haven't hit the bucket yet!" He says with good humor, laughing as he repeatedly slaps the bar with a meaty hand. The mugs tremble with the threat of falling, and they would have if Makino hadn't steadied them with a firm grip.

The elderly woman—Melissa—gives Garp one of the darkest looks she's ever seen. "Ah. Garp. Blunt and insensitive as always, I see. A pity that a whirlpool hasn't sucked you in yet, but I'm sure death just doesn't want to deal with your foolishness and shenanigans," she says, her tongue sharp and merciless.

She, Makino and the mayor wince at her response, but Garp just laughs even harder.

"What are you even doing here, Garp? Last I've heard, you were chasing a couple of pirates in South Blue," Melissa asks, raising a grey eyebrow that increases the wrinkles on her forehead.

"Oh, I'm here on vacation," is Garp's straight to the point answer. "Also, I want to introduce you to my granddaughter, Luffy," he says, setting her down on the bar counter that feels warm underneath her diapered bum.

She blinks up at Melissa and Makino, who're wearing identical expressions of shock although the former had more a horrified one compared to the latter's amazement. She stares up at the two of them unblinkingly for a long moment, before she gives them a tentative and shy smile. "Aye," she greets, wiggling her fingers at them.

Both of the women just continued to stare at her as if she'd grown a second head. Her smile twitches with the threat of fading away but before it does, Makino, unsurprisingly, blinks out of her daze to give her a small albeit breathtaking smile— _and it makes her chest squeeze painfully, makes her tiny, tiny heart twist like somebody's trying to drain out the sorrows and longing in it because it's the smile, the same smile that her mother gave her; there's not an ounce of love in it of course, but it's still the same, soft quirk of the lips and the brightness to it that reminds her of her mother and_ —

"Hello," Makino says softly to her, destroying the tracks for her train of thoughts. "It's nice to meet you, Luffy. My name's Makino, and this is mistress Melissa," she introduces with a tilt of her head.

She stares up at Makino, struggling to reorganize her thoughts as she shoves down the ache that's coursing throughout her entire being. She doesn't know what else to do but to nod numbly as her smile eventually fades away.

She misses her mother and father greatly.

"So you went and got another kid, huh?" Melissa says disdainfully, but the hand that she places on her small arm is warm and comforting. "Are you planning on giving her away to Dadan just like with that other one?" Melissa asks, but she doesn't look at Garp when she says this but _at her_ , and there's something akin to sadness and pity in her gaze despite the firmness of her expression.

"Actually," Garp starts, pulling her back to his chest and placing a meaty arm over her. "I was planning on raising her myself," he says. "But only until she's old enough, of course, and I'll need your help with that too since I can't be on vacation for more than two weeks," he says it nonchalantly as Melissa chokes.

"What?!" The elderly woman demands. "And who says that we'll just agree with taking care of your kid?!"

"She's not adopted," Garp states, and a deep and heavy silence hovers within the atmosphere around them. "She's really my kid," he honestly elaborates, much to the shock of Melissa and Makino.

"WHAT?!" Melissa shrieks. "You gone and knocked up someone?!"

Garp doesn't answer her question; instead, he turns to Makino and asks for a mug of beer for himself and for the mayor, to which the young lady nods wordlessly and sets off to prepare his order. Once he's nursing his warm mug of alcoholic liquid, Garp levels a serious stare up at Melissa. "It's actually my son who went and knocked up someone," he says right before he takes a sip from his drink.

It's amusing to her to watch all the color drain away from Melissa's features, and she can't help but smile at Makino's cluelessness to the situation at hand as she helps steady her mistress who'd apparently gone weak in the knees.

"Wait," Melissa says once she's seated on a chair of her own. "So this kid is your brat's kid?" She asks, and Garp nods. "Oh Poseidon," the elderly woman breathes out, placing a hand on her chest to somewhat calm her heavily beating heart. "So the Monkey family line continues, huh," Melissa says with a snort after a few long moments of silence. "Good riddance. There's just no getting rid of you Monkeys."

And Garp just throws his head back to emit a loud, _loud_ laugh that she swears had shook the entire building.

* * *

Before they leave, it's decided that she'll be in the care of Melissa and Makino whenever Garp isn't there. Naturally, she feels a little bit disappointed that Garp can't fully take care of her himself but it can't be helped since he's still on the active roster of the Marines and he has a duty to fulfill before he can completely retire from work, so all she can do is shrug off her disappointment because that's the best and _only_ thing that she can do; to accept it.

But the minute they reach the house that's apparently Garp's, her bad mood is immediately cast aside once her gaze lands on the large wooden shelf that's filled to the brim with books of all colors and sizes.

"Ah! Home sweet home!" Garp says as he sets her on a table and goes off to place his luggage somewhere in the house, most probably his bedroom.

She doesn't pay any heed to Garp; too fixated with the object of her attention, the object of her _complete_ and _utter devotion_ , because homagahd books! Books everywhere! Her eyes sparkle at the thought of reading all those books, and the thought of being left in Foosha Village doesn't sound too bad anymore. From what she can hear, she supposes that Garp is still unpacking his things in his bedroom so, with her determination set, she carefully climbs down the fortunately short-legged table.

The floor is covered with a thin, dark brown carpet that feels soft underneath her feet. Taking a short moment to enjoy its softness, she sighs softly at the remembrance of her tiny yet comfortable apartment back in her past life with its comfortable carpeting. She wonders what'd happened to it on several occasions, but she assumes that her family must have gotten her stuff before the landlady had put it up for rent for somebody else to buy.

Taking unsteady steps towards the shelf, she nearly trips over herself if a nearby desk hadn't helped steady her. She breathes out a sigh of relief, her heart hammering wildly in her chest as she looks back, and she's comforted by the fact that she can still hear Garp humming an unfamiliar tune underneath his breath. Looking back at the wooden shelf that seems taller and wider now that she's up close to it, she feels unashamed if ever she starts drooling.

Later, when Garp finds her, she's surrounded by piles upon piles of books that she'd taken from the lower parts of the shelf and has yet to browse through. He stares at her with one of the most bewildered expressions she's ever seen, before he silently settles down beside her whilst she's flipping through a book that tells the story of a brave sailor. She looks up at him then with large and glossy eyes, but she manages to crack a wide and and bright grin at him.

And it's only when he tucks her into bed and offers to read the continuation of the book to her, does _Garp_ truly become _grandfather_ in her head.

* * *

 _Its papers are blank with nary a spot of ink upon it, but there's a title to it that speaks of grandeur and_ not yets _._

* * *

 **Wasn't Luffy born in Foosha Village?** Well, it's canon knowledge that the original Luffy had been born in Foosha village—but then again, it's never been revealed that he'd _actually_ been born in that village. We assume he's been born there, since he'd lived there for the majority of his entire childhood, so I just added a little un-canon twist to my fic where _my_ Luffy was born on the _sea_ , because why not?

 **OC's personality?** As you can see, the OC's personality is more obvious here. Childish, she may be, but it's only an effect of having to live with _doing nothing but act as a baby for an entire year_ , so she's a little bit cuckoo in the head for now.

 **Issues with being abandoned** **?** Well, who doesn't? But OC doesn't have a major issue with it because she _does_ know about the canon storyline so she's not all that bothered with it.

 **Melissa?** Oh just a minor OC who I'd given the job of having raised Makino since she was a child. She's considered 'Mistress' or 'Elder' because she's the owner of the bar and the oldest person in the village. She's approximately 96 years old. Wonder why she's been alive for so long, ne? I also got inspiration for this character by reading, _**"Heed of the Siren's Call"**_

 **Will Ace appear early on?** No comment.

Oh yeah! Before I forget! I'd like you to check out _Miss Mungoe's, **"Heed of the Siren's Call"**_ It's a spectacular fan fiction detailing the possible relationship between Makino and Shanks which, to be completely honest with you, has twisted my heart several times because her story just fits in so well with the original story of One Piece. It's a story I strongly recommend :D

Oh, and thank you to all those who favorited and followed for the past week :) You're all such lovely sailors. I honestly hadn't expected that much. And to those nine reviewers, I'd like to say that you guys honestly made my day hahaha. I hope you'll be able to expect more from this project.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** "I am not the liable owner or creator of One Piece. I am but a mere humble fan fiction writer."

* * *

 _To be completely honest, she'd never really been interested in becoming a doctor. She wasn't one of those people who'd dreamed of becoming one since they were a child just so that they could either earn a lot of money or just plain out help other people out of the utter goodness of their heart_ — _no, her becoming a doctor was just something she did simply because it was something she found_ convenient.

 _She wasn't one of those historians who could ramble on and on about lectures upon lectures of a specific event that'd happened or of a specific place of either little to great importance; she wasn't one of those mad or prodigal scientists who could whip out new mathematical equations right out of their ass or discover a new element that would either lead to the end of the world or bring progress to the evolution of the human race._

 _No. She was none of those. She was just a plain-old bookworm who just_ really _loved reading and_ learning. _None of her original childhood dreams were even_ related _to medicine in the least_ — _when she was seven, she wanted to own a cute little cafe with cute little pastries, whereas when she was thirteen she wanted to be an assassin who could effortlessly jump across roofs and kill their designated target with complete ease._

 _Don't ask how she started off with such an innocent dream that turned into a bloody one. Puberty had been a total train wreck for her._

 _But there was always a reason behind every single dream of hers; for example, if she owned a cafe, she could learn how to manage a business, proper business placement, compute for the standarized menu recipe depending on the amount of consumers, methods of advertising, gaining investors or partnership deals, the ins and outs of interior design, recipes that could either be left alone or personalized, the different styles and kinds of flatware and tableware, efficiency and durability of different kinds of take-out materials, as well as what makes a person comfortable depending on the weather as well as the mood of the atmosphere._

 _Her dream to become an assassin was also on the same lines as her first dream, because you'd learned the most efficient way of breaking and entering without leaving any evidences, targeting your victim without leaving a trace or making it as if somebody else had killed them, the hierarchy of the underworld, the different types and kinds of weapons available and what were their advantages and disadvantages, gathering information via hacking or either stalking them in real life or through social media, etc._

 _Each and ever one of her dreams had always involved learning something new._

 _And anybody who knew her could attest to that; to the point that they always referred to her as_ the _smart one_ , _because she knew a lot of things that she'd mostly gotten through reading books, surfing the internet, or simply observing and/or experimenting to gain first-hand experience. They described her as knowledgeable and curious, interested with everything and nothing in the whole wide world, the one with a bright future ahead of them._

 _Although there were others who called her weird and freaky and annoying and crazy and a bitch, but she mostly ignored them because who was it that got into Yale, huh? Who was it that managed to graduate from a crappy public school in a rural area and get into one of the most world-known universities out there, huh? And with a scholarship too!_

 _(Who was it that succeeded?)_

 _But anyways, back to the point, she became a doctor because_ — _well, why not? It'd stopped her parents from nagging at her to be serious with her life, and her life as an adult was as stable as it could get right after she'd gotten her medical license; plus, she was learning new things every day as a doctor, so life was good._

 _But it'd never been enough._

 _It'd always felt as if there was something_ missing— _so she'd tried to fill that void by dedicating her life to her work, because what else could she do?_

 _So still, that hole in her life remained._

 _And when she'd died, she'd admit that she was happy because honestly she was just_ tired _of having to follow the same ordinary normal everyday routine._

 _But then she woke up in a whole new world, and her plans of being able to rest in peace had all gone_ flying _out of the window._

* * *

"Luffy!"

She's snapped out of her little daydream once she hears the familiar voice of Makino calling for her, and she raises her head from the book she'd been reading to stare up at the woman who is making her way towards her with a basket of clothes balanced against her hip.

"Reading again, I see?" Makino laughs lightly, bending down to her height to take a sneak peek at the page she's currently on. "Ara?" The young woman blinks, a slightly deep crease appearing in between her eyebrows. "Why are you reading this?" Makino asks with a tilt of her head.

"Poppy gave it to me," She answers easily, feeling a sense of accomplishment swell up inside of her for having not slurred her speech. Marking the page, she closes the book to display its cover to her—which is mostly white with a light blue border and the word, " **MARINE** ," imprinted boldly on it. It'd been a gift from Garp to her before he'd left for work about three months ago, and she'd honestly never expected to ever open it but curiosity had won out and she'd reluctantly opened the book to read it because why not? She'd already read all the books in the lower shelves and she was too short to read the ones up high, so this Marine guide book would do.

Makino blinks. "Garp did?"

She nods, before she opens the book to her most favorite page—the one that shows the Marine rankings. "This is Poppy's," she says proudly, pointing at the symbol for Vice-Admiral. "And this one is Poppy's friend's," she says with a dash of mischief as she points at the symbol for the Fleet Admiral.

"Ohhh," Makino says, her feigned interest sounding believable if not for the fact that she was technically older than the young women in terms of mentality and knew better. "Your grandpa and his friend are really strong, huh."

"They are!" She says with a nod as she beams brightly at Makino; although in her head she's pessimistically thinking, _of course they're strong, they_ HAVE _to be or else the Marines would just be a joke to the pirates._

"By the way, your grandpa sent you another letter," Makino says as digs into her pocket to bring out a folded envelope that she accepts eagerly.

She's careful to open the envelope, because she doesn't want to destroy it—call it a pet peeve of hers—and she smiles as she brings out the letter within it that's written in terrible calligraphy with sharp curves that can only belong to her grandfather; she'd honestly expected her grandfather to command one of his subordinates to write to her, but nope, every single letter of his had that same terrible calligraphy as the ones on the papers scattered about the desk at their shared home.

It's a warming thought. That he'd made time to write her a letter by his own hand.

"What does it say?" Makino asks her with her ever present smile as vibrant as ever.

She pauses at that, before her eyes scan over the letter to see if he'd written anything new.

"It just says the usual," she answers, though she feels a little disappointed at that because she'd expected her grandfather to write something new—like about his past adventures, or his new journeys, or maybe how his crew is doing. She really misses his crew, especially Bogard—but nope, he'd always written the same old _'How are you? Are you being a good girl to Melissa and Makino? Have you read that book I gave you? I don't know when I'll get back, but I'll be there before you know it! So just wait for me, okay? Stay safe for me, Luffy, and don't get into much trouble! Remember not to talk to any strangers, especially pirates. Granpda loves you and is always thinking of you.'_

It'd been sweet for the first few times, but then she's starting to get tired of the same thing over and over again.

She's starting to think that maybe he's not writing this by his own hand anymore, but is instead photocopying it. This thought replaces the warm, bubbly feeling inside of her with something dark and bitter that curdles deep within her gut, but she pushes it aside because at least he's sending her letters.

Her past grandparents had never really been able to send her letters because they'd died right before they could even carry her.

"Oh," Makino says, and the look on her face says that she knows she's disappointed in the letter. "It's ok, Luffy," Makino tries to comfort her by rubbing her back with soothing circular motions. "Why don't we go get something sweet for you, ne? You like sweet things, right?"

"...Yes," she admits, feeling a little ashamed that the very thought of sweets manages to wash away her bad emotions. She gets up from her seat, book tucked underneath her armpit, and she reaches for Makino's hand to grasp it.

Makino's smile is softer than before as she leads her back to the bar.

* * *

When Garp is away, she's not allowed to stay the night in the little house outside of the village, because, according to him, who knows what could happen to her if she's left unsupervised for more than an _hour_. Instead, she sleeps over at the bar, right next to Makino who isn't reluctant to wrap her arms around her much smaller body and bring her closer to her warm chest. At first, she wriggles away from the older woman's grasp— _because it's awkward, and it's the first night she's spent without Garp's protective shadow hovering over her like a comforting blanket, so she wants to feel sad and lonely all by herself for just this night_ —but eventually, she accepts Makino's affections because it's _cold_ in the night and she's just accepting the inevitable much sooner anyways.

She knows Makino will be an important person in her life—just as she'd been for Luffy. She has the choice to either accept her or not—to change or not to change. But she's already accepted Garp— _her w_ _arm, funny, and incredibly loving grandfather who never complains when she wakes up at the middle of the night because of dreams of either memories of the short time she'd spent with her parents or of flashes of her death that's starting to become a little bit traumatic to her_ _, and is patient enough to even read her any book she chooses until she's lulled back into a deep slumber with his deep voice bringing inked words to life_ —so what's one more character? Makino is kind, friendly, and _very_ considerate of her needs and wants; always willing enough to carry her wherever she wants to go if her mistress permits it, and always making sure that she's behind the safety of the counter whenever there are customers in the bar as to _try_ to prevent her from seeing or hearing any inappropriate manners or vulgar words that she could copy.

But she tries to ignore any of the customers' lewd language, for not only Makino's sake but for her grandfather's as well. And though it is incredibly tempting to see her grandfather's reaction when she says _fuck_ or _cocksucker_ right in front of his face, she doesn't want the bar to be given a bad reputation for kids (even though kids shouldn't even be in there in the first place).

So Makino is someone she's willing to accept as another precious figure in her life, because she's worth it.

But it's Melissa that she's most worried about. The elderly woman may be cold and critical to the point that there isn't a day where she doesn't yell at Makino at least _twice_ for even the tiniest of mistakes, but even she's not made out of ice. There are times when she lets go of her uptight personality that's similar to a mask that needs to be removed after its use to take a breath of fresh air; like when at the end of the day Melissa never fails to pat Makino on the back for a job well done with a small grin, or that time when she herself had accidentally knocked over an entire mug of beer because she'd been too engrossed in a new book and all Melissa had done was sigh and ruffle her hair and told her to be more careful next time before telling Makino to quickly clean up the mess.

But she most definitely can't forget about that one time when Makino was being sexually harassed by a particularly drunk customer who just wouldn't back the fuck off and got even more angrier when Makino had denied him. Melissa had thrown a literal _bitch fit_ —screaming like a banshee as she continuously smacked the man in the face with her cane until he ran out with a collection of bloodied bruises on his face, arms, chest, and back. It'd only taken Makino to calm her down, but even then Melissa had told the mayor to to tell that man to stay away from the bar or else she'd kill him for sure the next time she sees him.

That particular incident had definitely been... _memorable_ , and because of that it was pretty obvious that Melissa really, _really_ loves Makino no matter how many times she denies it to the mayor and claim that she's just properly taking care of her ward.

But it's not _Melissa_ herself she's worried about. She's worried about what would _happen_ to Melissa, because the elderly woman hadn't appeared even _once_ in the series, hadn't even been _mentioned_ , which means that—

—that Melissa wouldn't _be here_ anymore once Shanks arrives.

...

She doesn't want to delve in that train of thought, because she already knows its outcome.

Even so, she can't help but accept Melissa in her fold of important people.

Because you can't _stop_ what the heart wants.

* * *

"LUFFY!" Someone screaming for her name immediately jolts her our of her sleep, and she shoots up so fast that she accidentally falls off the bed with the thin blanket tangled up around her. She wriggles restlessly out of the blankets, but instantly freezes up once the door to the room slams open and in walks in Makino who's expression is as bright as the sun "Luffy! Quick! Your—" Makino stops talking once she takes in the sight of her on the ground. "...Luffy?" Makino says, sounding bemused and bewildered. "What are you doing on the ground?" Makino asks as she walks towards her and bends down so that she could help her out of the blankets captivity.

"I fell off the bed and got tangled up in the blanket..." is her almost timid answer as she blushes slightly out of sheer embarrassment for having been caught in such a ridiculous position.

Makino stares at her blankly for a moment, before her lips turn up into a smile as she giggles. "You're such a silly child, Luffy," Makino says to her, bringing a hand up to her face to gently make circular motions on her cheek with her thumb. "Be more careful, okay? You could've really gotten hurt there, so try to take better care of yourself please," Makino tells her.

"Yes, Makino-san!" Is her exuberant reply as she grins up widely at the older woman, any trace of embarrassment gone and easily replaced with eagerness because she remembers that Makino had promised to her last night that they would be having pancakes for breakfast. "Pancakes?" She asks, practically vibrating in place.

The smile Makino gives her has a tad bit of mischief on it that makes her pause. "Oh, there's something even better waiting for you downstairs," is all Makino says before she gathers her in her arms to carry her out of the room.

She rests her head against Makino's shoulder as they descend down the stairs, wondering what could possibly be waiting for her as she politely covers a big yawn with her hand. It seems like she's still drowsy from staying up a little late at night to continue reading some of Makino's well-hidden smutty novels while the barmaid herself was still cluelessly in dreamland.

She's a woman, okay? Child body be damned, because her brain _needs_ the stimulation to keep her from dying of utter _boredom_.

She's snapped out of her thoughts when she hears a _very_ familiar voice, and she immediately looks up to see the terribly missed hulk of a figure that could only belong to her grandfather who's now grinning sunnily at her as if he'd never left. Joy and relief are the first two emotions that swell up within her chest, the former because she's missed him _dearly_ and she just feels so glad that he's _finally_ home and she can finally ask him to reach that big, thick book at the very top of the shelf that even Makino can't reach with a stool; and the latter because he's _here_ and he's _safe_ and he looks the same as when he'd left her.

"Poppy!" She nearly squeals, reaching her arms out for her grandfather who blinks dumbly at her designation for him.

"Poppy?" Garp parrots, looking towards Melissa for an explanation.

The elderly owner of the bar has an amused look written all over her features. Whilst leaning against the wooden bar counter, Melissa snorts, "That's you, you buffoon. Makino tried teaching her to call you Grandpa, but she didn't want to call you anything else but poppy, apparently."

Realization and astonishment settles over Garp's features once his gaze returns to her, and her smile only grows bigger when he takes her into his beefy arms and cradles her close to his chest. "I'm Poppy?" He asks her, and there's something akin to wonder in his voice.

She nods vigorously. "Aye! Poppy is Poppy," she says, and she has to admit that no matter how cutely and childishly she says it, she feels a little ridiculous and stupid for even saying it in the first place. "And I read the book you gave me too!" She says, before pointing at the counter where the book should be resting underneath one of its shelves.

"Really?" Garp asks her with wide eyes. "You read the whole thing?"

"Aye!" She confirms, grinning.

"Pretty surprising considering she's your granddaughter," Melissa slyly butts in, downing her daily medicine with a gulp of water and a deep grimace. "Hard to imagine a Monkey interested in reading a 'bunch of paper and ink,'" she seems to have quoted.

"Hah!" Garp chortles. "Just goes to show you that us Monkeys are both brawn _and_ brain," he says smugly, but Melissa pretends not to notice as she orders Makino to go fetch a pail of water from the well outside. "But did you really read the whole book, Luffy?" He asks her, peering down at her with doubtful eyes.

Feeling a little insulted, she furrows her eyebrows at him and gives him the best unimpressed look that she can give.

The amused grin he gives her doesn't make her feel any better; in fact, she feels like pricking out the hair of his beard. One hair at a time, of course. "Sorry, sorry. It's just that when I was your age, I'd rather set a book on fire than _open_ one! BWAHAHAHAHAHA!" He boasts with a cackle of gleeful laughter, and she can't help but feel _horrified_ at the very notion of somebody burning book, and _enjoy_ it, and she's even _related_ to such an arsonist. "Your father was like that too, you know, but your grandmother beat that kind of thinking out of him before he started burning anything," he says, smiling fondly as he most likely reminisced about the good old days. "So it's a wonder why _you_ like reading," he says, peering down at her with scrutinizing eyes.

Internally, she's sweating a bucket-full of sweat; externally, she puts her acting skills to use and beams innocently up at Garp after a momentary pause of, _what the fuck should I do, oh fuck, am I screwed, AM I GOING TO DIE,_ whilst hoping against hope itself that her grandfather would be persuaded by her adorable facade.

Fortunately for her, Garp easily falls for her charms and proceeds to mush their cheeks together, cooing at how adorable of a brat she is and how he's going to make her absolutely _terrifying_ in the future.

And so, with her worries having been placated, she leans her head against his chest and closes her eyes, allowing herself to be lulled back to sleep with the familiar sound of her grandfather's heartbeat thumping beneath her. She doesn't care if she'd just woken up—because there's a difference between sleeping in her grandfather's arms compared to Makino's. In Garp's arms, all the tension that'd been coiled tightly within her body just _snaps_ , and all the worry, all the concerns, all the fear for the future that's been prepared and set up for her—it just vanishes.

She doesn't know if it's because of the shared blood they have coursing through their veins— _that sings prettily and loudly right here and right now, with her so close to him_ —or maybe it's because she just prefers his company over Makino's for some strange reason.

Her train of thoughts disperses once sleep claims her as its most willing captive once again.

* * *

 **Thank you once again to all those who've favorited/followed/reviewed this story :) It makes my heart just swell up with joy hahaha. I'd like to apologize if I'm not replying to any reviews but it seems like therr is a technicality with ny laptop and I'll have to get it fix. Don't worry! By next week it should be fixed and I'll be able to reply to every single one of your questions :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** "I am not the liable owner or creator of One Piece. I am but a mere humble fan fiction writer."

* * *

 _It's a thought that's been revolving around her mind ever since Garp had given her that basic guidebook about Marines. It's a silly and stupid and really, really crazy idea but there's a kind of sense to it that makes it look insanely acceptable if you tilted your head juuuust right and squinted your eyes to get a better look at it._

 _And, to be completely frank about her current problem—she blames Garp about it. It's an unfair judgement, she admits, since her grandfather hadn't yet suggested it or decided (like in the original series with the original Luffy) that she'd make one hell of a Marine instead of a 'stupid' pirate, and all he'd done was plant a tiny seed of 'what if' in her head. But she has to admit though, if Garp had actually planned to influence her, a baby girl (albeit a baby girl with an adult woman's mind from a different dimension and knows the future) by making good use of her love for books to become a Marine, he was doing a_ splendidly _good job, because now she was starting to have doubts if whether or not becoming a pirate was a_ good _choice and if whether or not becoming a Marine was the_ right _choice._

 _It's all so very confusing._

 _She's weighed out the pros and cons of both sides—_

 _Pirates live a life full of freedom, whether it be filled with debauchery or not, they had a choice to do whatever they wanted to if they had the courage and prowess to do it. Unrestricted by the laws of the World Government, they were free to do whatever they want. Sail throughout the seemingly endless seas, search for treasure buried by people long dead and gone, ransack each other's ships, party the entire night and drink beer until their livers crumbled in defeat, or heck, even take over an entire kingdom. They could do whatever the hell they wanted, and get away with it because they were considered outlaws, and it was seemingly their right to do whatever they wanted to. They could kill and take and destroy whenever they wanted to if they so pleased._

 _Marines, on the other hand, are held back by laws of the World Government. It was their job to both eliminate the threat of piracy and contain the wrongdoings of not only the pirates but also of any activist group against the World Government. They fought in the name of the justice they believed in, and they were loyal to the cause. Unlike the Pirates' scattered about, the Marines were regarded as one organization that were branched out to almost every single island located within all four Blues and of the Grand Line as well, and they had the legal power to get things done, whether it be by sanitary or dirty methods._

 _Pirates could be ruthless, but so could Marines. Pirates could be selfish bastards, but so could Marines. Prates could kill and take and destroy, but so could Marines._

 _Marines could be kind, but so could Pirates. Marines could be pacifistic people, but so could Pirates. Marines could protect and give and restore, but so could Pirates._

 _Both had its good and bad, and she'd seen it all through a screen. She'd seen the beauties and ruins both sides left in their wake. She knows that she cannot just decide which side to pick out of a whim because this is real. Gone was the fiction she'd come to admire; now, people with powers bordering on the supernatural zone, an inhibited world filled with islands with kingdoms instead of countries, and beings that one could only imagine were roaming the very surface of the Earth right this instant were real and she had to have a plan to survive._

 _Sure, she could always pick the easy way out by becoming a civilian and taking up the job as village healer to make a living and maybe settle down with someone who could handle her if there was even anybody out there who could, considering she'd lived in six states in her previous life yet found no significant other, but was that really option? Did she really want to live another plain and boring life when there was clearly a much more exciting path just laid out for her?_

 _There had always been something...missing in her past life. Nothing sentimental like ohhhh, she felt as if she was born in the wrong world because_ right now _that was clearly what she was feeling in a body that shouldn't even be hers in the first place and a name she felt like she didn't even have the right to own. It was more of a...boredom. Yes. A boredom. A specifically psychotic kind of boredom that had stemmed from her everyday routine. She couldn't really explain it into words, but it was like there was something wrapped around her very soul, slowly suffocating her as the days passed by and she continued on with her normal life as a doctor with nothing new or special happening in quite a while aside from the new cases that would pop out every now and then._

 _Heck, she even stopped celebrating her birthday by the time she entered Medical school._

 _Basically, she felt like she was caged in her past life, with the key to open the lock dangling right in front of her face. She had the choice to take it, of course. To free herself from such a dull life, but she never wanted to deal with the consequences—of her parents yelling in her ears, telling her what a waste of money she'd been and that she should have just found a man to take care of her, of the people she'd met whispering behind her back about how shocking she'd turned her life upside down, of the stress and fear and anxiousness of being labeled as useless digging deeply in the back of her mind as both a warning and a push for her to not give up on her current way of living—so she'd put on her big girl panties and carried on because what else could she do?_

 _That is, until her death came and suddenly the key hadn't been the only thing to free her from her prison. Her death was more like an explosion, an impact that bent the metal bars around her until there was a spacing large enough for her slip through and escape. Her death was a godsend, to be honest, and though she'd miss her family, her friends, and the good old patients who didn't hesitate in giving her extra tips or gifts—she was just glad that she'd managed to get out of her ordinary life without having to face the consequences of everyone's disappointment—herself including—bearing down on her._

 _Even though that meant she had a new whole warehouse of consequences just sitting right in front of her with her new life._

 _But hey, beggars can't be choosers right?_

 _So now, here she is, deciding her future and wondering if whether or not she should go along with the storyline or go fuck it and join the Marines._

 _It's not an easy decision, she can assure you, and it takes her another half hour for a thought—no, a memory, a realization—to enter her thoughts._

 _And then, she makes up her mind._

* * *

She's snapped out of her daydreaming with a shudder when she hears a platter of something heavy having been placed down in front of her, and she blinks a few times to make sure that the large and wide stack of pancakes complete with whip cream at the edges and a handful of it at the very top with slices of strawberries, bananas and blueberries decorating the white cream isn't a result of her hyperactive imagination.

"BWAHAHAHAHA, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LUFFY!" Her grandfather exclaims loudly and she yelps when she's suddenly plucked out from her seat and placed on top of his broad shoulders. He tilts his head up to reward her with one of his signature grins that could very well resemble the size of her head, and she can't help grinning back at him because it's her _birthday_ today and also because her grandfather and the rest of the villagers she's met in her time living with Makino and Melissa are there to celebrate it with her.

It's a large contrast from her first birthday, where she'd spent it in the privacy of the room she'd lived for an entire year in and with only the company of her mother and father on that day.

Her heart squeezes at the thought of her parents, and she wonders if they're alright wherever they are.

"You really outdid yourself this time, Makino-chan," the mayor—Woop Slap, she heard Melissa yell out loudly to him one day, and a barrage of memories of a cranky old man always berating Luffy that becoming a pirate would be no good for the village had surged through her mind—praised Makino with an eye of admiration at the stack of pancakes.

"I didn't know how to make a cake, so this was the next best thing," Makino answers, before she looks up at her and gives her an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, Luffy. I wanted to make a cake for you but I couldn't get my hands on a recipe. I hope this will do for now," Makino says whilst clasping her hands together and giving her a hopeful look.

She can't help but feel stunned at Makino's words, especially at the young woman's expectations that she'd be disappointed at having a stack of pancakes as a replacement for a cake for her birthday, and she feels an influx of emotions swell up within her chest as she decides that Makino is _definitely_ the best. Reaching her arms out to her, it's clear what her demands are and Makino gladly takes her into her arms after Garp bends down on his knees to accommodate the barmaid.

She pats Makino on the cheek and gives her a kiss there before mischievously blowing a raspberry into it, making the young woman flinch in surprise.

"Luffy!" Makino exclaims out of surprise, and she looks hilarious with a smudge of spit on her cheek and with her dark eyes so wide.

She laughs at Makino. "Makino-nee's funny!" She says as childishly as she can, because she has an act to keep up, okay? "I don't need a cake to be happy! I have Poppy and you and Melissa-obaa and Woop-ojii and everyone else here, and pancakes too! I don't need anything else!" She grins widely as she wraps her arms around Makino's neck and gives the young woman a squeezing hug before she pulls away. "Makino-nee's really the best!" She exclaims one last time to assure the one who's been looking after her the most for an entire year.

She can see the tears building up in Makino's eyes with how glossy they're becoming as the young woman gazes down at her with a wrecked expression on her face. "Oh, Luffy..." Makino murmurs softly, her delicate hand coming up to comb through the short spikes of her dark hair that have yet to lengthen.

She leans in to the touch, of course, and goes in for the kill. "I love you, Makino-nee," she says, and she _means_ it. She loves the young woman with all her heart—comes to adore how hardworking Makino is every day and never fails to do her work with a bright smile playing on her lips; how Makino's able to get up after a particularly hurtful scolding from Melissa and still keep moving forward, and how considerate Makino is of everyone's needs that she even sometimes forgets about her own wellbeing—because Makino _deserves_ to be loved, _deserves_ to be cherished.

A tear drop slips out of the corner of one of Makino's eyes, and she watches as it trails down her guardian's smooth cheek and drip down on her blouse from her chin. Several other drops of tears soon follow after the first, and she feels a little panicked because she didn't mean to make Makino _cry_ , she just wanted Makino to feel that everything she's done for her is _more_ than enough and that she appreciates her for all the things she's done for her.

She's crushed into Makino's chest before she even notices and she blinks a few times to get her bearings in order. However, she doesn't pull away because she can feel Makino trembling as she hugs her tightly; instead, she tilts her head back to look up at the young woman, who's looking down at her with a, dare she name it, _loving_ expression on her face.

Makino's tears drip down onto her face, but she doesn't wipe it away because she feels that if she even _moves_ , even _breathes_ , then the moment in between them would be ruined. Finally, Makino's lips curve upward into a teary smile that just _twists_ her heart. "I love you too, Luffy," she says, before planting a kiss on her forehead.

She feels her cheeks heat up Makino's words, but the moment is ruined when she feels something wet and loud being blowed onto her forehead. With a shriek, Luffy leans away as far away as she can from Makino who's grinning triumphantly down at her.

"EEEEEEW!" Luffy cries out, wiping away the saliva on her forehead and grimacing at the large amount of saliva that sticks in between her fingers and covers the entirety of her palm. "Makino-nee!" She complains, before wiping the young woman's spit on her blouse. "You're so yucky!" She sticks out her tongue at Makino who giggles.

"Now you know how I feel," is Makino's teasing reply as she wipes her tear-stained cheeks with a handkerchief.

Before she can even garner a response, she feels large hands hooking themselves underneath her armpits to lift her up from Makino's arms and plant her small body on top of broad shoulders. "Poppy!" She cries out, curling her fingers into his cropped hair and pulling as much as she could of it. The fact that he didn't even _wince_ was a sore blow to her strength, but considering that she was just a tiny two year old girl, it's to be expected that she could hardly make a veteran soldier wince even if she kicked him in the balls.

"Where's my I love you too, Luffy?!" Garp demands from her.

"I love Poppy too!" She exclaims, grinning widely. "I love Poppy so, _so_ much!" She cheers, and she screams out a protest when Garp plucks her from her spot on his shoulder to blow a raspberry on her stomach. "No, Poppy, no! Not you too!" She cries out with laughter, only managing to push her grandfather's face away from her body with a well-aimed kick to his face that hardly fazes the man.

"Torturing the poor girl," Melissa clucks her tongue. "What a miserable lot you are," Melissa comments half-heartedly before she easily steals her away from Garp. "And _you_ ," Melissa says pointedly to her, and she reflexively shrinks back and she supposes that if she has dog ears then they would be folded against her head. "Who taught you to do such a thing? Proper ladies don't blow raspberries," Melissa says in a scolding tone, aged features twisted into a sharp glower.

Instinctively, she raises her arm up to point at her grandfather. "Poppy taught me!" She beams, even if that's a lie and it was Woop Slap who did but hey, nobody needed to know that. The mayor would stop sneaking hard candy to her if she ever blabbered out that he was _anything_ but the strict old man that he was.

And besides, it didn't look as if Garp knew the truth either. "BWAHAHAHAHA! Lighten up, Melissa! Luffy can be a proper lady _while_ being fun too! If she's all prim and proper, she'd grow up to be a stingy old hag like you!" He laughs, beating his chest, and looking as if he'd just said the funniest joke in the entire world.

Makino easily takes her away from Melissa, who raises her cane and delivers a whack to the back of Garp's head that's so strong that it sends her grandfather to the floor with an evident bump growing on his head.

She can't help but stare in awe and admiration at the elderly woman who holds more strength than meets the eye.

And so, her second birthday comes to a relatively peaceful end, with her surrounded by new family members and a stack of pancakes that she easily devours whilst everybody isn't looking and is busy trying to pull Melissa away to prevent the elderly woman from ripping out all the hair from Garp's body.

She makes a wish when she engulfs the last piece of the stack of pancakes, aware of the eyes that have now settled on her once the chaos has diminished.

 _I'll become strong_ _t_ _o protect these people_.

* * *

Foosha village isn't terribly small in size, nor is it any bigger. It's just the right size for anybody to be familiar enough with everybody that a simple greeting and offer for service would never be considered awkward or 'too much' in the least. Another factor was that the village was large enough for news to travel by fast. By the time she'd arrived in Foosha village with Garp, there wasn't anybody that hadn't known about her by the time dusk had arrived, but not everybody knew that she was directly related to Garp through blood and most had assumed that she'd been picked up somewhere like he did with Ace.

She'd met almost all of the villagers by now, and she was familiar enough with them that she'd accept being carried by them and bounced around the bar under the watchful eye of either Makino or Melissa. Each and every one of them had been kind and nice to her, so it wasn't really that much of a surprise that Melissa would hand her over to the other women of the village to babysit her.

"But mistress—!" Makino tries to protest, holding her close to her chest as if to shield her away from anybody else's eyes.

"Enough, Makino. The kid's old enough for others to babysit her, and it's not like we'll just hand her over to petty mountain bandits," Melissa says with a roll of her eyes.

"But..." Makino tries again, and the barmaid looks down at her with reluctance clear on her pretty features.

Not knowing what else to do, she brings up a hand to pat her guardian's cheek as a sign of comfort.

But it only seems to do the opposite because Makino looks even _more_ hesitant to give her to Teri, a young woman who'd recently gotten married and seemed to be a close friend of Makino's,

"She'll be fine, Mako," Teri says, smiling comforting as she holds her arms out to take her. "I'll take good care of her. I promise. She'll come back to you in one piece by the end of the day!" She reassures Makino, beaming brightly as she does so.

It takes about a quarter of an hour before Makino ever so reluctantly hands her over to Teri after a good berating from Melissa and several more reassurances from her friend.

"Your Makino-nee is really something, ne Luffy-chan?" Teri giggles as she carries her out of the bar.

"Aye, aye!" She agrees childishly, looking around the village and what else had changed. She blinks owlishly once she notices that one of the one-floored houses near the bar had gained a second floor, and she wonders why. Looking up at Teri, she asks her, "Why did the house get bigger?" whilst pointing at the house in question.

"Huh?" Teri stops walking and looks over at the house. "Oh! You mean Cocoi and Sheryn's house? Well, they had Brock add a second floor because they found out that they'll be having a baby soon," Teri smiles softly at the house, warmth seeping into her eyes.

She recognizes the look on Teri's face. She's seen in it on her female friends' faces, on the faces of women who'd once been her patients, and even on her younger sister's face after she'd gotten married to a wonderful man.

It's the undeniable look of a woman who longs to be a mother.

( _Even she can admit that she's worn a face like that before when she checks up on the children that were once her patients. She may have had a significant lack of a love life, but that doesn't mean she didn't yearn to start a family for herself. She'd planned on getting knocked up a few times from a one-night stand, on those nights she's drunk off her ass with a tub of ice cream and an action movie playing on the television, but she could never do that to her child. A life growing up without a father. She's seen so many children who'd grown up with something missing in their life, and she'd never want her child to go through that._ )

"Come along now, Luffy," Teri sighs dreamily. "I have a couple of old clothes that I want you to try on."

And so, they depart towards Teri's house, and she can't help but feel dread settle deep in her stomach at the very idea of _dress-up_.

* * *

It goes on like this for a couple of months. Whenever Garp isn't around to take care of her and Makino and Melissa are much too busy in the bar to watch over her, she's passed onto any villager who's willing to take care of her.

Woop Slap is one of the most common volunteers, and she enjoys the time they spend together out on the port, fishing for any fishes or sandals that the waves bring to their little island. He's been nothing but patient with her, answering any of her questions, but she believes that a few of them are lies because when she asks him who her parents are his reply to her is a shrug and an _I don't know_ that's said too casually and quickly when she clearly knows that _he_ knows who her father is.

Still, she lets it slide because having the most wanted criminal in the entire world as her father _should_ be a well-kept secret and she supposes that Woop Slap had assumed that she'd blurt out her father's name the very next day even if she promises to him that she'd keep it a secret. The original Luffy would, maybe, but not her, so she can't fault Woop Slap for assuming that what with the blood of her insane grandfather coursing through her veins.

And it's a funny thing, really, that when you're passed onto a variety of people to be taken care of, you tend to get influenced by them.

By being separated from Makino and Melissa, she learns how to socialize with these people and from them—she _learns_ how to live an islander's life. It's not a hands-on experience kind of learning, considering that she's only _two_ for goodness's sake and the rest of the villagers would rather tie her up than let her do something remotely _dangerous_ or straining for an infant her age—no, she learns through sight and hearing alone. She listens to their words, to their offhand advices, and she watches them work, how to handle such things that she's never thought of handling before since she'd had everyday services that she could just pay for such as tailoring, carpentering, farming, fishing, milking, and, most of all, _laundering_ without a freaking laundry machine.

She needs to learn how to do these things herself, because who else would do it for her? Makino could, of course, and Woop Slap too, but she needs to learn how to be independent from them soon enough because she doesn't want to be such a burden to them for so long.

She doesn't want to become even more of a _hindrance_ to their lives as she is now.

So she resumes her act as an innocent albeit exuberant baby girl, whilst all the while learning the practical methods to _survive_ this new and big, wide world that could easily kill her.

* * *

One of her greatest fears happens one day, on an ordinary day where you'll expect that _nothing_ will go wrong. The weather is perfect, with not a grey cloud in sight, and the sun's rays are hot to the head but the cool sensation of the ocean's breeze is enough to keep anyone from complaining about the heat. Business at the bar is slow at best, with only a couple of customers that request for food than alcoholic beverages.

She's on the bar counter with Melissa seated directly in front of her and Makino is busying herself by preparing the customers' orders right behind her. The owner of the bar is currently teaching her how to make a crochet before she can go on to knitting then sewing— _since girls should start learning how to make clothes for their children as early as possible_ , or so what Melissa says as she shows her how to make a double crochet stitch that she's doing splendidly _horrible_ at if you check the meter-length chain stitch that's the only thing she's managed so far.

Then, suddenly, Melissa starts coughing. It only lasts for a few seconds, so she barely pays any heed to it since the old woman has been prone to coughing since a few days ago and it's only natural for elderly people to be more prone to coughing due to the vast increase of sensitivity to their lungs. But it's when Melissa starts coughing _again_ with her back hunched over from the force of her coughs and a pained expression clear on her face, does she start actually worrying.

"Mistress?" Makino asks worriedly, hurrying over to her guardian's side and rubbing her on the back.

She looks over the counter, and she freezes ever so slightly when she catches sight of something she's oh so familiar with but hasn't _seen_ or even _smelt_ in a long time. The blood that coats Melissa's palm is like an eerie reminder of the smell of blood that had oozed off from her father's clothes on the day her mother had stopped visiting her, and she's practically petrified in place.

"I'm fine," Melissa grunts out, trying with all her might to wave off Makino. "It's just a little—" she pauses then, eyes going wide before she hunches over once again to start coughing out a lung. The coughing this time doesn't stop until after a few minutes and when it does, Melissa collapses to the ground.

She sees Makino's mouth open into a scream, one that never reaches her ears that are too preoccupied with the sourceless ringing that's coming from nowhere but everywhere at the same time. She knows it's a reflex of her tiny and inexperienced body going into shock, considering that she's gone through a handful of it during her early weeks as a surgeon—and she _hates_ it that she freezes up the very moment when she could be _helping_.

Eventually, Souka—a woodcutter and a close friend of Teri's husband—helps Makino bring Melissa up to her bedroom as two other villagers run out of the bar to call for Woop Slap and the village doctor, Cocoi.

* * *

Makino is crying. Makino doesn't even bother trying to hide the hideous face she makes as tear drops slip past the corners of her eyes that have already turned pinkish from the amount of time she'd locked the two of them up in her room to unleash all her sorrows. Her entire face is flushed to the point it's starting to resemble the reddish shade of a ripe apple; not to mention the facts that the skin around her eyes are swollen, snot is starting to drip down from her nose, and she's fairly sure that a fair amount of saliva is trailing past Makino's lips.

Makino isn't a quiet crier either. When she cries, she _screams_ and _shouts_ and _curses_ —the entire opposite of the Makino she'd come to know, who's always so calm and composed and serene and generally _tame_.

Each wail that comes out of Makino's throat cracks her heart just a little bit, and she's oddly reminded of the time when her father had gathered her up in his arms, the suffocating scent of _death_ and _blood_ emanating from his very being, and just held her there as his shoulders shook and the Adam's apple in his throat had bobbed up and down.

But unlike then, she's able to do _something_ this time. Appearances be damned, her act as a naive and innocent and bubbly two-year old be _fucked_ into the mouth of hell because she won't be so _useless_ this time around when one of her precious people is suffering and she can _do_ something to rectify that matter.

Not again. _Definitely_ not again.

She moves out of the corner she'd begun hiding in the moment Makino had started throwing things around, and climbs onto the only bed in the room to where Makino had thrown herself on to mute her sobs and weeps into a pillow she'd stuffed her face into. Slowly, and a little cautiously, she crawls over to Makino and plants her rump right next to Makino's head.

The woman who's older in terms of physical appearances pays her no heed as she continues crying into her pillow; still, she reaches over and combs her fingers through Makino's dark green locks, and she starts humming a small lullaby that's one of the only mementos she has left of her mother aside from the memories they'd shared together and the shared blood flowing through her tiny veins.

She knows the lyrics very well, having listened to it to the very end before sleep could completely take over her weary mind, but she can't sing it very well so she opts to hum it for Makino, who deserves to at least hear the melody of this song until she's old enough and has practiced enough to actually sing the lyrics to her.

Eventually, Makino calms down the very moment her throat is starting to feel hoarse, and the older woman looks up at her with dark eyes that are completely void of emotion.

Yet, Makino stills manages to force herself to smile kindly at her, which makes her heart crack even more because Makino's so _strong,_ so _giving_ , so _considerate_ even when she's at her lowest. "Thank you, Luffy," Makino says, her voice so _broken_ yet still managing to come out in one piece.

Her chest is tight, and she can tell that her hands are clenched into tight fists when she feels her nails digging into the skin of the palms of her hand. Her entire head is both a whirlwind of thoughts and filled with absolutely nothing at the same time, but there's one thing that's clear through the storm of emotions that fluctuates within her—

"I'll fix things, Makino-nee," she says with resolution in her voice, and the emotion that wells up within her when she says it is familiar. It's a psychotic kind of determination, one that she's lived with for a _very_ long time, and one that's brought her to her doom yet made it _so much_ easier for her to breathe.

Makino doesn't believe her—she can't blame her, because who would believe a two-year old girl claiming to fix something that _should_ be incomprehensible to an infant her age when even those who're at least ten times her senior _can't_ understand the solution to the problem itself—yet, Makino brings her hand up to caress her cheek in a loving and most affectionate way that makes her chest tighten even more. "If only, Luffy," she says with a defeated sigh. "But this is something you just can't fix," is her last words before she gathers her into her chest and wraps her arms around her petite frame.

No more words are exchanged as Makino falls asleep, but she stays wide awake as she stares at Makino's chest.

Melissa is dying. Her elderly body is succumbing to a disease that the village doctor is familiar with but _doesn't know how to cure_. The only option they have is to bring Melissa to the Goa Kingdom where the medical facilities there are much more advanced compared to the one they have here in Foosha Village, but even that's not the smartest of decisions considering it'd cost a lot of money, and even the patient herself had verbally denied being such a burden to their wallets despite the several decent arguments that Melissa deserves every pouch-full of Beli they have on them for all the good and favors she's done for them.

But _she's_ familiar with Melissa's disease. She _can't_ cure it, what with their limited amount of resources and the lack of modern equipment to better aid her, but she _can_ slow it down; just long enough for Melissa to live for another year or two so that _old age_ can claim her before that accursed sickness can.

Melissa's dying, but she can fix it. She'll fix it this time around, unlike that time her mother had to leave her and her father and she had no idea how to fix that.

She'll be strong enough this time around to protect her loved ones, because _never again_ will she be so useless in the face of hopelessness.

* * *

It takes an entire week—an entire week of _wasting time_ —before she can execute her plan. Makino is tired and weary, but she doesn't seem stressed enough to have another mental and emotional breakdown; Melissa's been sleeping for most of the day, waking up every now and then, before going right back to sleep after she's eaten her designated meal of the day; Woop Slap comes by every day to check in on them, bringing along hard candies and half a freezer-full of freshly-caught seafood or their monthly supply of milk, and also to bring her to her designated babysitter of the day considering that all three of them are either too sick or preoccupied with their duties to properly take care of her.

For an entire week, she's thrown a fake tantrum four times. None of those were her best moments but hey, you can't always get what you want unless you throw one hell of a tantrum with screeching, crying and hair pulling. The only reason for why she's ruining her image as an easy baby to take care of is because she _needed_ someone in particular to take care of her.

Or, well, that someone's _house_ to be more specific.

Sheryn has been a fantastic and patient babysitter for her for the past week; albeit she was a bit clueless with how to take care of her at first, and also she had one hell of a temper tantrum that was thankfully from the source of her mood swings from being pregnant and her husband usually bore the brunt of her irritation. Fortunately for her, Sheryn was prone to taking naps with her and would always be the first one to fall asleep and was a heavy sleeper herself, making it possible for her to sneak out of bed and barge into Cocoi's clinic when the doctor wasn't home or had joined them in sleeping as well.

She's seen the notes he'd written down; and, while all of them were detailed to the point even _she_ was impressed with the knowledge he had despite the limited amount of resources he had in his shelf, what he was identifying as Melissa's sickness was _all wrong_.

Melissa doesn't have a respiratory disease, she has a _cardiovascular_ one. Yes, she's been coughing out blood lately, has been feverish for the past few days and has been complaining that her chest has been hurting—which could all point out to a problem in the lungs or bronchioles—but Melissa's been favoring her right side more than her left one and has complained about it a few times, she's been a looking a tad bit yellowish in the skin which could hint to deteriorating red blood cells, but its the fungal-like deformation in her nails that hits the nail spot on that it's her _heart_ that's having problems, and that her respiratory system is also bearing the brunt of the damage.

She's already listed down all the things she'd need, packed a bag full of supplies that would surely help keep her alive, and left a letter on the counter for Makino once she wakes up. It's probably about an hour past midnight by the time she checks up on Melissa, and she makes sure that she closes the door as quietly as she can, wincing every time a particularly loud creak resounds from its rusty hinges.

She makes sure to be as careful she can as she climbs the bed of the woman she's starting to see as her foster and always grumpy grandmother. She looms over Melissa, taking in the old woman's relaxed features that are usually wrinkled into a scowl with furrowed eyebrows. She smiles—sadly, happily, relieved, worried, _she has no idea_ —and, hesitantly, she places a tiny hand on Melissa's cheek to touch the skin that's _still warm_.

Quickly, she places a chaste kiss on Melissa's forehead before she clambers down the bed and heads out of the room; making sure to pick up her pack that's at least twice her size before she climbs down the stairs and runs as fast as she can out of the bar before anybody else can catch sight of her tiny figure retreating to the dangerous outskirts of Foosha Village.

And if anybody sees tears running down her cheeks, it's merely a trick of the moon light, because she _doesn't cry_ , dammit.

* * *

AN: Hahaha. Sorry for the late update, guys! But you know how real life is, yes? I have written five chapters in advance in case that I won't be able to update on time next time hahaha. Expect a chapter every 1-2 weeks though—that I'm sure of. Currently, I am in the middle of exams and today I have an interview with Ateneo de Manila where I'll be hopefully enrolling this Senior High hehehe. Wish me luck guys because I'll need it.

If you have any questions, please PM me or review hehehe. And to all my lovelies who have favorited, followed, and/or reviewed—Thank you very much because we finally hit the 100 milestone for follows hehehehe!

With lots of love, CherryDrug.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** "I am not the liable owner or creator of One Piece. I am but a mere humble fan fiction writer."

 **L.I.N.E.**

 _She's absolutely petrified._

 _Several times, she's already thought about going back—back to where home is, where Makino is, where safety is—and far, far away from this insane jungle where a young girl her age shouldn't even be a mile's worth of distance within. But she couldn't do that; she couldn't just give up so easily and go back home where Melissa was at, sickly and pale and practically living the last few months, maybe even weeks, maybe even days, of her life, and suffering from a disease that nobody in Foosha village but her has any knowledge about._

 _It's the only thought of Melissa, still warm to the touch, that makes her put on her big girl panties and brave through the jungle where creatures at least thrice the size of her grandfather roam about even in the dead of night. She's already encountered at least a pack of wolves, three wild boars, Godzilla junior if it was ever a tiger, and a spider that could have probably passed off as a freaking Ariados with its color scheme and how fucking_ _ **large**_ _it was—all of which she's ran away from via climbing—or, well,_ shimmying _up considering how fucking short her limbs are—trees (bless Garp for letting her do whatever she wanted to do when he was home) or simply running away._

 _She's probably pissed herself silly a couple of times, but she never really bothered to check if she did what with how tired she's been._

 _And to think, she's barely spent_ three hours _in this insane jungle and she's already survived_ several _life and death situations that she could have gladly lived on in peace without. She's frustrated, tired and hungry, and all she really wants to do is to open one of her containers of food and gorge in but she can't fucking do that because there's a giant ass tiger down below that could sniff her out any time if she so much as_ twitches _from her perch on a branch that she's_ sure _that stupid tiger can reach if it just stood on its hind legs._

 _So far, she hasn't found any of the herbs she'll need to create the homemade remedies for Melissa's sickness, but she_ has _found a couple of mint and chamomile herbs lying around and she couldn't help cutting a few stalks out because they'd make exceptionally good ingredients for teas and soups that would be beneficial for Melissa's health as well._

 _Still, she has hope that she'll be able to find what she'll need._

 _Because she_ needs _those herbs to help Melissa._

 _And come hell or high water, she'll_ find _those stupid herbs_

 **L.I.N.E.**

Makino wakes up from a dreamless sleep at exactly four o'clock in the morning just as she's always had to, right before the sun's rays can peek over the horizon and before that rooster from next door can crow out its morning alarm. With puffy eyes and cheeks stiff from tears, she sits up, stretches, and yawns loudly with a mouth to cover her mouth. Her head is still cloudy, and she takes a minute to recollect her memories of last night.

Immediately, her mood becomes somber at the remembrance of her mistress's health.

Mistress Melissa has always been cranky and strict with her, and there was never a day that had gone by on the first early weeks of being placed underneath Melissa's care where she wouldn't ruthlessly criticize every single thing she'd done to the point Makino would cry herself to sleep—but her mistress is a good woman, and that is enough for Makino. She'd been the one who'd taken her in when there was nobody who would; the one who nursed her back to health when she was painfully sick for days, then berated her for not looking after herself properly; the one who'd given her clothes that were _never_ hand-me-downs but sewed by hand; the one who would always chase away the customers who'd gotten too handsy with her, then scold her for not sticking up for herself like always; the one who who'd taught her everything she knew today, such as reading and writing and math and _common sense_ , for her to not be some girl with no brains; the one who'd _cared enough_ for her that if her mistress would have to die, then she'd be left with the bar and a hefty amount of Beli that was _more_ than enough for some ' troublesome barmaid she'd picked off the streets' to get by.

Mistress Melissa has always felt more of a mother than her real mother who she'd hardly gotten to know of.

 _And now_ , Makino couldn't help but think with a fresh batch of tears building behind her eyes, _she'll be gone soon_.

Suddenly, Makino's jolted out of her own thoughts at the realization of something. Patting the area to her left, she snaps her alarmed gaze to the space that's _empty_. More specifically, empty of _Luffy_. Makino inspects her tiny bedroom—even going so far as to check underneath the bed and peek into her wooden chest of clothes; yet, there's no sign of her two-year old charge.

Frankly, Makino is panicking. Well, on the _inside_ she is, but she swiftly pushes that down because panicking won't do her any good and Luffy is probably downstairs, in the bar, where the door to the outside world is conveniently there and she could just waltz right through those swinging doors and venture off into the night where some kind of childnapper could steal her away, or maybe venture off into the port where she could trip and drown herself in the ocean because Makino's pretty sure Luffy can't swim just yet and—

 _Breathe_ , she tells herself, inhaling deeply. _Breathe, Makino. Now's not the time to be panicking_.

So, as calmly and as levelheaded as she can, Makino makes her way out of her room, climbs down the set of stairs, and arrives down in the bar. At first sight, the bar is sentient of human life _—_ still, she reigns in her worry as she checks around the bar. By the time she'd switched the lights on, checked underneath the bar counter, the tables and the _chairs_ , and even inside the barrels that'd been pushed off to the side, Makino is sure that her heart's somewhere lodged in the middle of her throat when there's no sign of Luffy _anywhere_.

Just as she's about to call quits and run to the mayor's house for help and for another panic session, Makino spots a sheet of brown paper lying inconspicuously atop the wooden countertop. She feels something akin to dread settle icily within her gut as she picks up the paper and starts skimming the contents of the paper, hoping that this isn't some kind of runaway letter from Luffy.

By the time she's finished rereading it for the twelfth time, Makino's face is pale and sweaty as her trembling hands crumple the edges of the paper that's starting to form a tiny rip at the very top. She can't find it in herself to even _breathe_ , because right there, scrawled in calligraphy with emphasized curves, are the words,

 _I'll fix things._

 **L.I.N.E.**

Woop Slap wakes up to a barrage of insistent knocks on his front door. The mayor of Foosha village drowsily grumbles his way to the entrance of his house, and he can't help but take note of how dark the sky still is from outside his window, making his foul mood worsen.

He nearly rips off his door as he opens it, a grumpy expression plastered across his face. His mouth opens to unleash a myriad of colorful curses mixed with complaints at how _early_ it is, but he pauses when he realizes that it's Makino—poor, sweet Makino who really isn't somebody his anger should be directed at after all that's happened to her yesterday—and he promptly swallows down all of his intended words for being woken up at such an early hour.

"Makino?" He voices out instead, and the something clicks in his head when he sees the fresh tears streaming down her red cheeks and the stricken expression that she wears. An eerie kind of dread and remorse settles in his gut at that, and he can't help but ask, "Is Melissa…?"

Makino looks even more pained at the mention of her guardian, but before she can open her mouth, Woop Slap places a hand on her shoulder to silence her.

"It's ok, Makino," he tries to comfort her, understanding how much pain she should be in right now. Losing a loved one had been hard for him, and for Makino who's so young to lose her maternal figure at a time like this must have been even harder. "Melissa's in a better place now. It's best if we go to Cocoi and let him handle the rest," he says as he then proceeds to shepherd her towards the direction of where their village doctor's house should be.

But then Makino stands firm from where she's at on his porch, and he turns a questioning glance at her. "Wha—?"

"It's not mistress Melissa," Makino suddenly says, shaking her head as she bites her lip and silently adds _yet_. "I checked on her earlier and mistress is still sleeping," she informs him, much to his confusion.

"Then why did you wake me up?" Woop Slap asks, flabbergasted and supremely relieved that his old friend hadn't kicked the rusty bucket just yet.

"Because I can't find _Luffy_ ," Makino answers quickly.

"…what?" is all that manages to come out of Woop Slap's mouth.

As Makino explains the situation to him _—_ about how she'd found the note that Luffy had most likely left, how she had immediately gone over to Sheila's house in case the two-year old girl had gone over there to get some medicine, and how Luffy _wasn't there—_ Woop Slap feels like something akin to dread settle within his guts as he inspects the paper Makino had given to him earlier.

It's Luffy's handwriting alright. Nobody could fuck up that z and make it look like a curly g.

"Have you checked Garp's house yet?" He asks the barmaid, who immediately turns on her heel and runs off to the aforementioned location without so much as a single word. The mayor watches as Makino disappears around a corner before he goes back in to operate the Den Den Mushi Garp had left for _emergencies use only_.

As he waits for Garp to answer the irritating rings, Woop Slap's thoughts drift off to unpleasant thoughts of what could become of the Vice-Admiral's granddaughter. Pirates rarely came by Foosha Village, but it wasn't quite unheard of to hear of at least one crew within the Kingdom of Goa, and considering the frighteningly short distance between his little town and the large kingdom, it wouldn't be quite unheard of for a pirate to stumble into their village and coincidentally kidnap a child _—_ who they could have very well threatened to write a letter as to not raise any alarms _—_ that they could either keep as a deck boy or sell off to slave traders.

A shudder crawls up his spine at the thought of slaves. He'd seen them once, a few decades ago in the Goa Kingdom, when a Tenryuubito had dropped by with a line of slaves accompanying him. His memory is a little fuzzy and blurry around the edges, but he clearly remembers the expressions they wore that time _._

Every single one of them had looked as if they had all lost the will to keep on living.

And the very thought of Luffy—bright, cheerful, and lively Luffy—with gaunt features, bony limbs, and her eyes so empty makes goosebumps pop out all over his skin.

When the ringing continues on for several more minutes, Woop Slap curses Garp for being so far away from them right now when they need him the most.

 **L.I.N.E.**

There's a snake crawling on the tree

It's nothing like any of those small, insignificant garden snakes that she and her sister would fearfully cower away from whenever their father would mischievously show it to them. In fact, this particular snake seems to be twice as thick as her waist and thrice her size in length, with bright shades coloring its scales and beady black eyes that are trained solely on her.

As it opens its mouth, revealing a forked tongue and a pair of fangs that glints threateningly from underneath the rays of the sun and could easily be half the size of her entire arm, she thinks that _this_ type of snake is worth cowering away from.

Her tiny arms are wrapped around the thick trunk of the tree she's trying her best to press as much of herself as she can. The snake is just a few meters away from her, on another branch that's dangerously close to hers and could easily be bypassed if it just lunged forward. Climbing down isn't an option for her, not with the pack wolves prowling underneath her branch, so that only leaves shimmying her way up to the branch above her.

Yet, her muscles are frozen in place and she can't seem to find it in herself to _move_. Her heart seems to be the only part of her body that's functioning well—a little _too_ well, judging by how fast its beating and how determined it seems to jump straight out of her throat. She watches with fear locking her joints as the large snake raises itself, the strong muscles underneath its scales tensing as it leans backward and opens its mouth wider, a hiss audibly leaving its throat as it appears to be preparing itself for lunging straight at her.

She can see a vicious kind of hunger in the snake's eyes _—_ but there is something else as well: _desperation_ , and she doesn't know why or even _how_ but she can _see_ it through the snake's orbs that brings true meaning to the quote, _'eyes are the very windows to a being's soul,'_ and she _knows_ that this snake is merely hungry, after days of having digested _nothing_ , and there's a small part of her that feels sad for it if it wasn't for the very fact that _she's_ its next meal.

Terrified, she manages to find it in herself to whimper pathetically.

Is this how she'll end? After _two fucking years_ of cozying up to this new life? A life that shouldn't even be _hers_ and has the majority of the story of _One Piece_ on its shoulders _—what will happen then, she wonders, to not only her but to the entire storyline itself. Will she be reincarnated in a different body and in a different time and world, once again? Or will she truly die this time around? And what will happen to all the people who_ Luffy _would influence—would_ save? _What will happen to not only her but to_ _ **them**_ _?_ —is this how it will end for her this time, with a snake devouring her whole after having sunk its fangs into her flesh for a bloody taste?

And after a long time, she starts to relearn how to _fear_ death.

However, just as the snake ferociously launches at her with wide jaws; a blur of dark brown suddenly appears from the thick foliage above their heads, and it barrels into the snake with enough force that makes a sickening crack resound throughout the air.

It takes her a moment for both her body and mind to realize that she's no longer in danger. Gradually, she starts to relax; her heart dislodges itself from her throat and its beating returns back to its normal and steady pace. She takes in a breath that she hasn't known she's been holding, immediately filling her lungs with much needed oxygen.

Her body is still shaking from the entire ordeal; otherwise, she's mostly unharmed. She winces when she unwraps her arms from the tree and sees how red the palms of her hands are from gripping the bark as tight as she could, and she manages to feel silly and stupid for not bolting out of there as fast as she can.

Next time, and she can most surely count on there being a next time, she wouldn't be so foolish as to let her nerves take hold of her body once again. The only thing she can use as an excuse for herself for even freezing up in such a dire situation in the first place was because she's never encountered such a large, untrained snake wanting to make her lunch.

Suddenly, she feels the branch she's sitting on wobble dangerously up and down, making her swallow down a shriek as her grip on the tree trunk returns despite the incessant throbbing in her fingers. Alarmed, her gaze shoots up, and when her dark eyes meet another pair of dark eyes, she can't help but blink dumbly.

 _A monkey?_

The aforementioned mammal blinks back at her with—dare she say it—adorably innocent eyes before it reaches out an arm towards her to which she flinches away from. Its arm stops, its fingers just several inches shy from her face, and its head tilts to the side in silent confusion to why she'd reacted so negatively to its touch.

She feels her heart melt at the adorable sight before her, and she manages a nervous smile for the monkey that seems to brighten up when it sees her lips curve upwards.

She vaguely wonders what has happened to the snake, and one look down at its sickeningly broken and unmoving body confirms it all. _Well hello there, you little sick, rotten piece of scales_ , she thinks with a tad bit of insanity.

But it seems as if she's stared on for far too long because the monkey grabs her attention back by tugging on her backpack, and she looks back at her savior(?) with raised eyebrows. It takes her a moment to realize what it wants, and she's not one bit hesitant in revealing the contents of her backpack—either in fear of becoming like the snake down below, or in acquiescence since cute animals have always been one of her prime weaknesses.

As the monkey rummages through her backpack, she tries hard not to look back down when she hears the pack of wolves growl and bark at the snake's corpse. Instead, she watches as the monkey pulls out one of the sealed containers with food inside of it, sniffs it, and tries to open it before it promptly gives up and starts shaking the container in frustration.

Snorting, she reaches out pry the container of out the monkey's grasp before the food inside of it completely turns into mush. "Wait," she tells the monkey who looks amusingly and alarmingly affronted, before she unwraps the handkerchief around the side, digs her nails in the small gap, wrenches the wooden container open, and hands it back to the monkey whose eyes are wide with wonder and has its mouth puckered out to emphasize its feelings.

It stares at the food inside of it and its eyes gleam hungrily; without pause, it digs in and she's left to watch as the monkey practically inhales her container clean. It looks up at her after it realizes that there's no more food left, and she tells herself not to coo at the monkey's adorably big, dark eyes that stares pleadingly her way.

 **L.I.N.E.**

"Sir, Fleet Admiral Sengoku, sir!" The Marine that had just entered salutes to the highest-ranked officer within the room, his form stiff and the tip of his middle finger just barely brushing against his eyebrow.

Garp looks up from where he's devouring a carton full of donuts, not even paying heed to the rice meal that had already lost its warmth an hour into the meeting.

"At ease, Lieutenant," Sengoku allows, and the soldier drops his salute. The Fleet Admiral looks a little annoyed at having their meeting interrupted, and the way the soldier sweats informs them that the soldier is anxious to bear the brunt of Sengoku's ire. "We're holding a very important meeting right now, Lieutenant, so you'd better have a good reason for barging in," he says, voice tight and firm.

"Sir, there's a call on standby for Vice Admiral Garp on Den Den Mushi F00," the Marine says, and all eyes are on Garp this time.

"Can't the call wait?" Sengoku huffs, crossing his arms.

"Sir, no, sir," the Marine shakes his head. "The man on the other line said it was an emergency and something about a 'Luffy' being missing," he says.

Garp stiffens at the mention of his granddaughter's name, together with the word _missing_ of all things. Abruptly, he stands up, surprising the Admiral on his right. "I have to take this call," he says, words clipped and straight to the point.

Sengoku eyes Garp for a brief moment before he sighs heavily and shoos him away with hand motions. "Go. I'm giving you five minutes."

Garp nods, looking grateful. "Lead the way," he tells the Lieutenant Senior Grade before they're off to the Communications room.

A moment of silence occupies the air in the room, stressed to the point of awkwardness before Sengoku coughs into his fist.

"Let's continue on about the matter in South Blue," he says.

All eyes are immediately on him and away from the carton of donuts that Garp had left behind on his seat.

 **L.I.N.E.**

Eventually, after offering thirty percent of her food to the monkey, it decides that she's better off with it; because apparently, offering food to a monkey gets you adopted in the end.

They arrive in a clearing after swinging from branch to branch through several dozens of trees, and she's absolutely relieved when her feet touches the ground. Clinging to a monkey as it practically flies through the trees about several meters from the ground has traumatized her of heights just a little bit, but before she can kiss the ground, she suddenly finds herself bombarded by a horde of monkeys.

She squeaks in surprise, of course, but other than that she stays perfectly still as they inspect her. A few tug on her short hair, some lift her arms and poke her skin, whilst the rest are more fascinated by her clothes to which they try to remove from her person.

Once they're done inspecting her, they start inspecting her bag to which she merely shrugs the straps off her shoulders. Like the first monkey, they are immediately enraptured by the containers that contain her food.

A few of the smaller ones waddle over to her, tugging on her shirt and pinching her in demand to open the containers. Their adorable eyes win her over, and before she knows it they're having a feast.

She feels a bit bad for stealing food from Party's Bar, then something dawns onto her train thoughts that makes her explode into fits of laughter at the irony of her actions.

Here she is, feeling bad about stealing food and even sharing it; whereas the real Luffy wouldn't hesitate to do the former and would physically glower at the very idea of the latter.

She feels regretful, however, when she sees the empty containers of food, and wonders how on earth will she survive this forest without food now? Sure, she can pick some fruits from the trees, but it's inadvisable especially when there're dangerous predators lurking around like that giant snake.

Her worries are placated when a bunch of bananas are dumped into her lap, and her gaze snaps up towards the monkey that placed it there in the first place.

She doesn't know how, nor does she begin to question why, but she can tell that this monkey is the same one who'd rescued her from the snake and had carried her off to this paradise of monkeys. It feels different from the rest—just as every monkey has a unique feel to it that she's never noticed until _just now_. Internally, she's freaking out over the fact that she can _distinguish monkeys because holy fuck_ , but she smiles gratefully on the outside.

The monkey blinks back at her before it looks back down at the bananas.

She laughs a little, already knowing what it wants, and gifts it one of her bananas. "Here," she says as she hands over one that's the most yellow out of the bunch. "You can have this for showing me your family."

The monkey accepts it, its mouth having puckered out, before it runs off to show her gift to the rest of its friends.

She watches as the monkeys interact with one another for a few more minutes, before she sets off to covering the containers and packing her bag with the bananas placed on top to prevent them from being squished underneath.

She sighs heavily, feeling the events of today weighing down on her tiny shoulders, and she feels like _crying_ because she hasn't found any of the herbs she needs to help Melissa.

But she hardens herself—makes the wetness in her eyes be pushed back, transforms her insides into pure iron, and steels her back for what's to come—because she _has_ to. There's no going back now, she tells herself. The way forward is the only path she can take right now.

Apparently, one of the baby monkeys seems to have noticed her about to leave, for it leaps towards her and clings to the back of her shirt.

"H-Hey!" She yelps, trying to pull the baby monkey off of her, but then she realizes that the other monkeys, both children and adults, are watching her moves sharply, and she stills instantly, recognizing a losing fight when she sees one. Posing as threat to the young where the adults are still about nearby would be a stupid move, and she's not as daring nor foolish as the original Luffy to put herself in such a dangerous area. "I can't stay here," she says not only to the monkey clinging to her back, but also to the rest of them who'd welcomed her.

The monkey clinging to her whines, and she shakes her head at it. "I can't stay here," she repeats as she sits down and waits for the baby to remove itself from her. Fortunately for her, one of the adult monkeys comes over to unlatch the baby from her when it doesn't seem like letting go too soon. It cries out in protest, but with a warning snarl from the adult, presumably its parent, it shushes immediately and allows itself to be carried off whilst casting teary eyes at her.

However, another monkey is holding onto her arm before she can leave. When she checks, she notices that it's the same one who'd saved her, and she smiles sadly at it. "I can't stay here" she repeats, and damn, how many times has she said that line today? "I have to go," she says as she peels of its fingers.

Adamantly, the monkey holds onto the edges of her shirt instead, and it _fucking_ _ **bares**_ its long ass teeth at her. Inwardly, she's freaking the fuck out because _what the hell_ , _where did the cute you go and why the fuck is the scary you out_ ; on the outside, she's sweating bullets, so really, no difference at all. "No," she tries to say as sternly as she can, just as when she'd talked to her neighbor's dog when it refused to let go of her Lacoste bag, and Conan had been all teeth and snarls too like the monkey. "Let go," she says—well, _pleads_ , because let's be real here. "…Please?" She tries. "I _really_ have to go. I need to find some herbs to help my…" Here, she pauses, because what _is_ Melissa to her?

A guardian? No, she knows that Melissa isn't just _that_. Garp had handed her to Melissa, and all the elderly woman had done was complain but _not once_ has she told her to _get out_ and _not once_ has she ever _screamed_ or _hit_ her.

A friend? No. Melissa wasn't just a _friend_. Friends didn't make sure that she was handed off to responsible adults to be taken care of for the day. Melissa was _family_ , and the memories of Melissa—handing her warm milk when Makino was too busy serving the bar, bringing her to the outback when she needed to go, teaching her how to read and write when she already knew how to, reprimanding her about how a young lady should act then going on about the best ways to prepare hangover remedies, complaining about Garp and Woop Slap and Makino even if it was all half-hearted, grinning down at her with a few missing teeth and telling her what a smart little girl she was and how she would _definitely_ grow up differently than how her fellow Monkeys had—floods through her brain as if a dam had been broken down.

And then the ache in her chest is back, and she starts _crying_ of all things for Pete's sake, but no matter how hard she tries, she can't stop the tears that flow over her fingers as she tries to rub them out

She wants to go _home_ , but she _can't_ because Melissa is _sick_ and she's the only one who knows how to _help_.

All of the monkeys are crowding around her by, wondering why there is water flowing down from her eyes. They tug on her clothes and pull on her hair, but it only makes her sob even harder because she wants Melissa and Makino to be here right now.

Better yet, she wants _her parents_ here right now.

But you can't always get what you want, she thinks bitterly.

The baby monkeys cry back at her, asking her in their own language why she's crying, and one of the adult monkeys howls at them to quiet down. By then, she's already given up on why and how she can even understand them.

"I need to find the herbs," are the first coherent words that tumble out of her mouth, and they're pretty stupid, because what's the point of telling these monkeys what she needs when they probably don't understand her? But she needs comfort, she needs _someone_ to tell this to, and this is the best thing she's got now. "I know how to help Melissa," she says between sobs and disgusting inhales with the snot of snot being blown inwards. "I'm a _doctor_ for fuck's sake, and I've studied my fair share of herbalism, but everything I need is in a fucking drug store an entire _dimension away_ , and I've never gone out hunting for herbs before, let alone in a freaking jungle with killer animals in it," she rants emotionally, before she digs into her rucksack to pull out a piece of cloth just so that she could throw it into the ground out of sheer, albeit childish, frustration. "And I can't even tell _anybody_ in our village about it, because I'm supposed to be _two_ and I shouldn't know things like that," she cries, though she internally wonders what _will_ she do _if_ she gets home? Just hand over the herbs to Cocoi? Then what? Obviously the villagers would start asking questions, and if they found out that she wasn't really _Luffy_ , then they might even burn her on a stake and there goes Luffy's wonderful adventure up in smoke and down to ashes.

One of the adult monkeys cry out in question, and she's too deranged and emotional to even think rationally by this point so she digs out the papers she'd ripped out from Cocoi's notes and shows it to the assembled monkeys before her.

"You see all these herbs? These stupid, stupid plants and oh God why did there have to be so many, but who cares because I know every single one of them. You see this pink flower? Yeah, it can be used to boost the immune system, which is the bomb for slowing down cardiovascular diseases, but it can also increase the risk of liver damage and wooo-hee! But this artichoke here can counter it because it can lower cholesterol levels while this milk thistle here can, like, help the liver freaking _regenerate_ its functionsif its combined with a _dandelion_ of all things…"

And then she goes _on_ and _on_ until she rants and explains and lectures and cries and laughs herself to exhaustion then to sleep.

 **L.I.N.E.**

"Hello?" Is the first thing that manages to come out of Garp's mouth before a barrage of insults and curses are suddenly hurling out of the phone and into his ear. Wincing, Garp bring the phone away from his face and waits for a few minutes for all the snarling and hissing to quiet down before he brings it back. "Hello," he repeats patiently. "Who is this?"

"Garp, you old bucket of worms," is the answer.

"Oh! Woop Slap! Nice to hear from you!" Garp greets cheerfully, before the smile curving his lips vanishes into thin air and all that's left is the dark expression upon his face. "Now what's this about Luffy being missing?" He asks, keeping his expression, demeanor, and even his fucking Haki contained and unreadable.

As Woop Slap details their progress in looking for the lost and most likely kidnapped Luffy, Garp feels his control slipping through tendrils of rage and fury. "And my house? Have you checked it yet?"

"Makino has, but Luffy wasn't there."

"How about the stables? She likes visiting the cows and horses there."

"No sigh of her there either."

"How about the pier? She likes going there."

"In the middle of the night, Garp?"

"Have you or Have you _not_ , Woop Slap?"

"We checked, Garp. She wasn't there either," Woop Slap exhales deeply this time. "Look, Garp. She left a note at the table, saying that she'll _fix things_ but she might as well have been kidnapped for slavery and forced to write that note," he says.

Garp stays silent for a few more beats before he questions in a low, throaty voice. "Fix things?" He asks, sounding confused. "Fix _what_ , Woop Slap?"

The mayor of Foosha Village sighs heavily. "We're not sure, Garp, but we believe it has something to do with Melissa," he confesses. "You see, Melissa got sick a week ago. As in _really sick_. Sick to the point that she has something infecting her lungs and slowly killing her. Makino didn't take it well, obviously, but Luffy…we thought that she was too young to understand what was going on, and she wasn't showing any signs of depression so we thought that she was doing fine," he begins to ramble on. "But. But I guess we were too blind to see that she _did_ understand," he admits before sighing loudly. "Honestly, I should have known better that _you're_ granddaughter wouldn't be all sweets and giggles."

And Garp's reaction to his friend's best substitute for an apology was to laugh. _Loudly_. "Hah! And _you_ said Luffy didn't have any of the Monkey genes in her," he croaks out with glee. "And Melissa? Sick? _Hah_. That old hag will get up in no time, just you wait and see!"

"I doubt that," Woop Slap says grimly. "But we really need you here, Garp. If Luffy's missing, you out of everyone here have the best chance of finding her."

There is a moment of silence on Garp's part before he answers. "I'll talk about it with Sengoku," is all he can manage. "You know the rules, Woop Slap. I'm still a Marine and the only reasons I can get so much breaks is because I've done so much for the Navy and nothing big has come up yet," he says regretfully.

"…" Woop Slap has nothing else to say, but the disappointment that he oozes can be felt through the phone. "…This is just like with Dragon all over again," he spits out ruefully before all Garp can hear is the sound of the dial tone that sounds more mocking as the seconds pass by.

It's a low blow on Woop Slap's part to mention Dragon of all people to him—the betrayal his son had exacted upon him had left a scar upon his heart that would most likely never heal—but Garp can't blame the old mayor.

Garp, for all that he loves his family, isn't really a great family man. He would always be torn between his family and his duties as a Marine—between _who_ makes him happy, and _what_ makes him happy—but he never really had to actually _choose_ because the former had always been understanding of the latter and let him go.

It was only when _Dragon_ had come into his life when complications had risen up and he actually had to _choose_.

In the end, Garp had made a choice. He'd always been told that he'd made the _correct_ one, but it never really did feel like _right_ one. He'd lost a son in the process, and he wonders if it was actually _him_ who'd done the betraying and if the same scar on his heart was on his son's as well.

Exhaling deeply, Garp gently places the handset back. The Den Den Mushi looks worn out, and he tells the nearest Lieutenant currently handling communications to give the little guy some water.

He pauses by the doorway on his way back to the meeting room, and another Lieutenant nearly barrels into him in the process. Luckily, Garp grabs the poor man's arm before he falls flat on his ass.

"S-Sir?" The Lieutenant stammers out, before he composes himself and delivers a sharp salute. "Sir, good morning, sir!" He greets cordially.

Garp just stares down at the other Marine.

"S-Sir?" The Lieutenant stammers out again, unnerved by his superior's staring.

And then, suddenly, a bright grin breaks upon Garp's face. "Would you mind delivering a message to Sengoku for me?"

The Lieutenant blinks, before he nods eagerly. However, once Garp has finished relaying the message to him, the Lieutenant has paled to the point his complexion resembles a sheet of white paper and he's none to sure if he actually wants to be the one to deliver such a suicidal message.

"Bwahahaha! I'm counting on you, lad," Garp says, patting the other Marine on the shoulder, before he walks off.

But instead of heading to the meeting room—where Sengoku and all the other Marines of one star rank or higher are most likely talking about something that's already on his desk in the form of a report that he had been too lazy to browse through—Garp takes a right and heads for the port for where his trusty Melody would most definitely be anchored at.

After all, he has a granddaughter to hunt for.

 **L.I.N.E.**

 **Everyone! Thank you for the lovely reviews :D And for all those favorites and follows. I apologize if I'm unable to reply to any reviews but I will as soon as my laptop is fixed. Thank you all for your patience, and I hope that the next chapter of Strikehedonia will be something you'll enjoy.**

 **And, because the line breaks do not seem to work (thank you to those who've reviewed, you're amazing, you guys!) I'll be using L.I.N.E.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** "I am not the liable owner or creator of One Piece. I am but a mere humble fan fiction writer."

 **L.I.N.E.**

 _She doesn't dream that night._

 _Instead, her peaceful slumber is plagued by a nightmare that has haunted her for a good third of her past life._

 _She doesn't expect the nightmare to follow her_ _—never even_ thought _about the possibility; because ever since she'd been reincarnated into this not so fictional world, she hasn't had a single nightmare aside from that one time when she was seven months old and woke up screaming because of a particularly brutal one depicting the way she'd first died._

 _Besides, she'd lost everything that was once hers when she'd died._

 _No more nagging parents, no more eccentric friends, no more nosy coworkers, no more patients that she'd have to smile blindingly at, no more neighbors with angry dogs, no more comfy apartment, no more medical license that she'd worked more than a fucking_ third _of her life for, no more proud reputation that she'd worked another_ third _of her life for; in fact, she has no more_ anything _._

 _She couldn't even keep her previous body and live her own life somewhere hopefully far away from the deranged canon plotline; no, she just_ had _to be stuffed into this new, fresh, admittedly cuter, and fortunately female body of the_ main character _._

 _Luckily for her, she was saddled with her past life memories in this new life; maybe that was supposed to be a sign that she hadn't completely_ lost _everything just yet._

 _The nightmare that haunts her no longer terrifies her after the first five years of its arrival—and by no longer terrifies her, she means that it no longer results in her waking up in the middle of the night with a scream tearing its way out of her throat and her entire body covered in a sheen of cold sweat—but it_ does _always leave her a bit shaken from the entire ordeal._

 _But the nightmare itself, considering the circumstances right now, is pretty grim and foreboding—like a prophecy just waiting to happen, and she steels herself from what's to come once the endless abyss of darkness in her head makes way for a bright light that suddenly appears in her mind's eye._

 _Fragments of a memory that she'd rather never recall fleet through her mind like a cinematic record, and she's forced to watch every single one of them._

 _Of a small, four-walled room with tiled walls and floors and the scent of ethyl alcohol wafting throughout the room; of an immobile and slightly pale-skinned body lying atop a steel, cold operating table; of a scalper, which gleams underneath the glare of the overhead light, digging into the torso of the patient and burrowing its way downward to create a narrow stream wherein red life fluids seep out of; of skin being pulled back to reveal organs still pumping and functioning despite one of them being scarily bloated out with pus seeping out of one of its many infected sores; of her, still young and fresh out of medical school to work on her residency, suddenly freezing up, her hands clammy and trembling ever so slightly as they hovered over the sterilized tools that she would only have to pass on for her first time participating in an actual operation; of experienced surgeons yelling at her deaf ears to get it together and for this tool and that tool to be handed over to them._

 _But the thing that impacts upon her the most is the feeling after having been forcibly pushed out of the operating room and replaced with a_ nurse _who could do better than her._

 _Nurses were fundamentally what helped make up a hospital; they were the go-to person if their assigned doctor wasn't there, but to be replaced_ by _one was an insult to her pride._

 _She didn't graduate from one of the top medical schools in the entire world to be switched out for_ somebody _else._

 _She hadn't been allowed to go back into the operating room for a week, but the talks behind her back—of how_ unprofessional _she'd been—had lasted_ much _longer._

 _She'd learned a life lesson from that frustrating and embarrassing and most painful experience: that hesitation and unpreparedness led to the failure of an operation; so she'd learned to never be one of those two things._

 _She'd learned that hesitating and being unprepared led to death, and she wasn't willing to lose Melissa because of that._

 _Not yet, and maybe not ever._

 _She'd failed a couple of times before—she was only human, after all, but at least she'd tried her best those times after her first operation; besides, there were some cases that a doctor just_ couldn't _cure._

 _But now—_ now _, she couldn't fail._

 **L.I.N.E.**

She is jolted out of her unpleasant slumber by a high-pitched shriek that makes the one bubbling in her throat immediately die a painless death. She looks around wildly with wide eyes to locate the source of such a scream, takes note of the adult monkeys circled around her with their backs to her, and wonders what on Earth is happening so early in the morning.

A small cry near her catches her attention, and she looks down at her side where a baby monkey is pitifully curled up to. In fact, there seems to be about a dozen baby monkeys curled up against her and crying out small whimpers into her sides.

"What…?" She says aloud, confused beyond her wise years, only for a loud growl to capture her attention.

Alarmed, she gently pushes the baby monkeys away from her so that she can pull herself to her feet and peek over the adult monkeys' heads to get a good long look of what's going on.

The sight that she sees is one that steals the breath out of her lungs. Gasping, she covers her mouth with both of her hands to muffle the sound.

Because there, beyond the bushes that she and the rest of the monkeys had been hiding behind, is a tiger—and no, it's not like any of those regular-sized tigers that she'd see in zoos, because God forbid there be anything relatively _normal_ in this insane jungle; in fact, it's _huge_. Not like Godzilla huge, but still freaking _huge_.

The tiger, which is probably twice the width of her grandfather and much taller too if it ever decided to stand on its hind legs, is crouched lowly upon the field of flowers.

She clearly sees the powerful muscles hidden behind its coarse fur, and swallows thickly when she sees _who_ it's facing.

Her monkey—because what else can she call it—is crouched lowly as well, its thin tail flicking from side to side in mirror to the tiger's much thicker one. She can't see its expression with its back facing her, but she can guess from its hisses that it's pretty pissed off too.

She flinches when the behemoth of a tiger rears its head back to let loose a roar so loud that Earth itself trembles. The baby monkeys around her start to whimper even louder, but she shushes them as fast as she can in order to avoid attracting the large beast's attention.

And then, much to her amazement, just as the beast lowers its head back, her monkey lunges forward for a clawed swipe before it backs off to a safer distance.

The tiger yelps—and she's not kidding, because it _yelps_ like a dog—before it's back to growling at the monkey. However, instead of staying in one place, it crouches down even further before it leaps with its mouth wide open to reveal the sharp fangs that glint in the same its sharp claws do.

Being much smaller and quicker, her monkey easily dodges the attack before it could get crushed underneath the humongous tiger's weight. It's a pattern afterwards: tiger attacks, monkey dodges; when tiger shows slowing down, monkey lunges forward to swipe it.

However, after several minutes of this pattern going on, she can see that both mammals are starting to tire out. Both mammals are breathing heavily and their attacks are significantly weaker than before; the tiger's leap has a shorter distance, and the way her monkey dodges is sluggish at best.

She can tell that if this continues on for much longer then her monkey will surely lose if it doesn't flee.

With about a hundred plans circling in her head, she looks around for her bag and spots it on the other side of the clearing.

Oh fuck her.

She can't possibly get to it in time if she goes around the entire clearing; unfortunately for her, her best bet is to get to it by running straight _through_ the clearing where a very large and very angry tiger could quite possibly maul her to death if it manages to snag her with its huge claws.

With no other plan left, she doesn't need to be told twice. Sighing heavily, she waits for the right moment to dart out of the monkeys' circle and instantly seizes it once the tiger is at its safest distance away from the bag with its back turned towards her.

Not even bothering to take in a deep breath, she barrels her way past the adult monkeys and runs head straight into the clearing. She can hear the monkeys yowling loudly at her, but what's done is done and she has no other choice but to go through with what she has planned.

She makes it halfway into the clearing when the tiger _finally_ takes notice of her, and her rapidly beating heart lodges itself in her throat when her gaze meets the predator's sharp and hungrily glinting one.

For a split second, she understands. Understands why the tiger is _here_ in the first place. _Panic_ —wherearetheywherearetheywherearethey— _frustration,_ because why won't this monkey just die already; _anger_ —whydidyoustopme—and full blown _murderous intent_ —diediediediediedie _diediediedie_ _ **diediediediediedie**_.

She _understands_.

And in that moment she understands, she falters in her run; making her a target for the tiger to all too easy direct it's next attack on.

Fortunately for her, her reflexes kick in and she manages to roll out of the tiger's way and land solidly upon the soles of her slippers. Her lungs are starting to hurt with how heavily she's panting, but she ignores the dull ache within her chest in favor of bolting away as quickly as she can to where her bag is.

Through the blood rushing in her ringing ears, she can barely make out the furious roar that is meant for her. She berates herself for how _idiotic_ she's been—because rule number one of encountering a predator, _never_ turn your back on one unless you're asking for a death sentence.

She reaches her bag in record time and starts digging through it with a ferocious kind of determination for the weapon she'd snatched from the top drawer of Garp's desk.

Just as she sees the tiger readying itself to pounce upon her once more from her peripheral vision, she grips her bag tightly and scampers off as far away as she can.

She hears the tiger's roar of frustration and anger, which only fuels her with the drive to run just a bit faster and gives her the perfect idea to throw out all of the useless things out of her bag, which all coincidentally land none too gently upon the tiger's face.

Fortunately for her, her new strategy makes it easier for her to look through her bag; unfortunately for her, however, her new strategy angers the tiger even more instead of slowing it down as she's presumed.

A gleam of metal from within her bag catches her attention and just as her hand encloses around something leathery, she finds herself suddenly knocked down to the ground by a heavy and almost suffocating weight.

She cries in pain right after her jaw hits the ground _hard,_ but she silences herself when she feels the hot breaths fanning the back of her neck that makes goosebumps break out all over her skin in a really, _really_ bad way.

The tiger shadows her body with its much larger one, effectively caging her in between all four of its legs. She has nowhere else to run, and no way out of this unfortunate situation to save her life.

She's doomed, doomed, _doomed_.

She can both hear and feel the tiger's powerful chest rumble with a kind of vicious triumph that makes her tremble with fearful anticipation.

But when she waits for the assuredly painful blow to her person, she realizes as she tenses up that she's still tightly gripping the handle of the Swiss army knife.

And that's when her thought process comes to a sudden halt as her body decides that it doesn't need a brain to protect itself.

She caresses the smooth leather handle for a brief moment before she rolls onto her back with her arm swinging out and carrying all the power that she could muster in this one single attack.

The blade of her grandfather's Swiss knife catches the ray of sunlight filtering in through the trees, and it gleams the caught light back into the tiger's beady black orbs as it _slices_ through its right eye, allowing a considerate amount of blood to spurt out of the flesh wound and onto her face.

The smell of iron immediately invades her olfactory sensors, but all she has is enough time to grimace before she's suddenly hauled out from underneath the tiger and thrown off to the side before the tiger has enough time to brutally crush her beneath its weight for inflicting such damage onto it.

She gets a mouthful of grass and dirt—which isn't the best combination to have for breakfast, mind you—as she rolls across the filed several times before coming to a rather jarring stop that has her disoriented for what amounts to a few minutes.

Blinking out the dark spots in her vision, she looks at what has happened so far and realizes that her monkey had apparently been the one to throw her off to the side to continue its fight with the tiger.

Only difference now is that her monkey seems to be _winning_.

With a manic shriek, her monkey attaches itself to the tiger's head, its legs wrapped around the large feline's powerful neck. As her monkey raises one of its clawed hand in the air, she has enough time to suck in a deep breath before she's watching her monkey gouge into the bleeding wound she'd created.

Naturally, the tiger roars out in pain and it tries shaking the monkey off of it; to its misfortune, the monkey formidably hangs on by tightly gripping onto the feline's fur with its free hand as its occupied one is pulling its claws out of the tiger's eye with an audible and sickening squelch.

Though she has never really been an avid animal lover, she does feel bad for inflicting such pain on the tiger and just standing by to watch the monkey thoroughly pummel the feline's ass.

But hey, it was a dog eat dog world and she'd rather not be the one whose bones were reduced to chew toys.

Eventually, the tiger is soundly defeated once it stupidly decides to ram its head into a tree in a desperate effort to take out the monkey with it; the only hole in its plan was that it had never really thought of the possibility that the monkey would jump off of its back once it was too late to swerve away from the tree.

She winces at the loud sound of skull hitting tree and watches as the tiger slumps down into a dead faint onto the grassy floor.

Her heart is still beating loudly and she places a hand over her chest to help calm it down as she regulates her breathing—because a panic attack in the middle of a forest isn't the greatest of ideas.

Afterwards, she notices that she's still tightly gripping the knife in her hand and she doesn't quite know what to do with it. Blankly, she stares at the blood coating the blade before she calmly wipes off the still warm life fluid with her shirt and flips the blade back into its sheath so that she could safely tuck it into the waistband of her underwear for safekeeping, and uses the inside of her shirt to wipe off the blood on her face.

She has no time to panic about the very sight of blood when Melissa's palm has been coated with it for the past couple days.

A gentle touch on her arm snaps her out of her musings, and she looks up to meet her monkey's beady black one. Once her monkey knows it has her attention, it tugs on the sleeve of her shirt and she's smart enough to understand that it wants her to stand up.

Despite her shaky legs, she manages to pull herself up from the ground with her bag in hand. "Are you alright?" She asks, which was quite stupid of her since monkeys can't reply, but she's already scanning the monkey for any injuries.

There are a few bleeding scratches on it that would probably need washing to avoid infection, but other than that it looks fine if not just tired.

The monkey tilts its head at her, eyes once again calculating, before it tightens its grip on her sleeve and proceeds to drag her off to where the rest of the monkeys had emerged from their hiding spot behind the bushes.

A few of the adults are baring its teeth at her and when she looks at their eyes she understands that they are simply mad at her for her insubordination when they had made it clear that she was to stay with the babies. The rest of the adults who aren't baring their teeth at her either tug her hair or pinch any uncovered skin on her.

She hisses in pain when one of them pinches the skin of her sore jaw, and when she rubs the aching skin she's sure enough that an ugly bruise has already blossomed there.

Eventually, once the fuss is over, all of the adult monkeys get to work as she's apparently appointed the position of babysitter for the little ones.

Once she's sure that the baby monkeys have occupied themselves with her hair and clothes, she starts watching the adult monkeys to see what exactly they're doing. She's amazed to see that they seem to have separated themselves into groups: one is scavenging for fruits on the nearby trees, another is carrying the hopefully not dead tiger out of their territory, whilst the last one is picking up the things she'd thrown.

"Aww," she can't help but murmur once the last group deposits her thrown items on the ground directly in front of her. "Thank you," she says with gratitude, because they didn't have to and it was very sweet of them to do this for her.

They merely coo at her in reply before they turn their backs on her to resume whatever work they have left.

 **L.I.N.E**

Later on, after the sun has set and the sky itself has turned dark with its glittering heavenly bodies the only things lighting up the forest, she rearranges the things inside of her bag for the fourth time and thinks to herself that she can't stay here forever.

She has to go—go get the herbs to make Melissa's medicine, go back to Foosha Village where Makino and Woop Slap and Melissa and _home_ are—but the question is, go where?

She has no idea.

She hasn't told the monkeys of her plan to leave—doesn't have to, because it seems they already know with the way they're trying to stuff her bag with as much as fruit as it can handle. The babies shriek at her to stay, pulling on her clothes as strong as they can, but their mothers bring them away and shush their cries with coos and bared fangs.

She doesn't have to worry about baby monkeys chasing after her once she leaves though, because they're all nestled safely into the chests of their mothers and dreaming the night away.

She and her monkey are the only ones awake right now, and she's trying to find it inside of her to say goodbye once and for all as she slings on her bag.

"I guess this is it," she says, turning to face the monkey. "I don't think you'll understand this, but I'd like to say thank you. For everything. I hoped I had more food to give you guys, but I don't have anything else aside from the fruits you gave me," she admits. "Just…take care of yourselves, okay? Look after each other and don't let anybody get eaten, please. I…I hope we'll be able to see each other again in the future," she confesses. "But for now, this is goodbye. I still have to help somebody very important to me, so I hope you understand that I'm not leaving because I don't want to stay here, but because somebody needs me more and I can't say no."

The monkey tilts its head at her, its large eyes practically looking through the very windows of her soul, before its gaze fleets off to the side where the depths of the forest are located.

And without a moment's hesitation, the monkey promptly latches onto her arm.

Yelping, she stumbles back a bit from the sudden weight. "Hey, let go!" She hisses, shaking her arm to throw the monkey off of her, which only furthers the mammal to wrap its long tail around her neck and give it a tight squeeze that has her choking at the pain of both being cut off from air and from her throat being squeezed.

Just as she starts to see black spots dancing in her vision, the tail loosens its painful hold on her yet still alarmingly stays wrapped around her neck.

She breathes in greedily, thankful that her lungs have been inflated with air after what feels like a _decade_.

Meanwhile, the little motherfucker that tired to kill her has the gall to even snicker at her expense.

"What the hell's your problem?" She growls, thoroughly unamused. "You just don't go choking people like that when they're about to leave!" She scolds with a glare.

The monkey merely grins back at her, canines gleaming from the moonlight; though she's intimidated by the sight, she forces herself to grow a spine because she won't let herself be stopped by a monkey of all things.

Even though that monkey had bested a tiger, mind you.

She tenses up when the tail around her neck tightens, but only up to a degree that's firm and unrelenting yet not the very least painful. Confused, she inspects the monkey with a silent question in her head, and she understands when she looks into the monkey's eyes and finds the answer that she's looking for.

"It'll be dangerous," she warns. "And I won't come back here after I find what I'm looking for. I have to go back to _my_ home first and foremost," she rules in.

In reply, the monkey merely detaches itself from her and lets out a soft screech before it runs off to the forest with no intention of waiting for her.

"H-Hey! Wait for me!" She cries as she too runs off into the forest and after the monkey.

 **L.I.N.E.**

Four more days pass and she finds herself _actually_ surviving the jungle. She doesn't know if it's because she's just _that_ lucky, or if the universe itself has been modified to _be_ lucky for Luffy.

Her companion, whom she now dubs Mamoru, has been _extremely_ helpful and she knows that she would have been dead by now if the now genderized he hadn't stubbornly insisted on tagging along. He had taught her to nap every several hours since having a full sleep either during daytime or nighttime wasn't all that recommended in such a dangerous place where predators could be lurking in the bushes right next to them; with Mamoru, she doesn't have to worry about traveling on the forest floors anymore since he can easily carry her on his back as he flies from branch to branch, making it easier for travel and escaping.

It's also been easier to find the herbs she needs with Mamoru by her side, since he seems to understand her description of several herbs up to a certain degree, and it also helps that he has a keen sense of smell, making it easier to scour other sources of the same type of herb they've managed to fortunately see scattered upon random places that wild animals had most likely trampled upon.

And he also makes for an excellent bodyguard, judging by the wheezing sounds the larger than average wolf makes as Mamoru strangles it to either unconsciousness or death.

She pretends to be oblivious to the scene happening behind her as she picks several Hawthorn berries from a healthy bush. Hawthorn berries were well known for relieving heart conditions, such as increasing blood flow to the heart, improving cardiac muscle contractions, and it even had an arrhythmic effect that would help steady the heartbeat—provided that it was taken in proper dosages, considering that the side effects of dizziness, appearance of rashes, nausea, headache, heart palpitations and intestinal problems weren't the best of symptoms to gain.

As she places the berries within the folds of banana leaves, she takes stock of what herbs she has gathered so far. Fenugreek leaves that would do _great_ for relieving coughs if boiled into a herbal tea, and the freshly plucked seeds of the Fenugreek plant that would do well as a poultice once it was wrapped up in a cloth and warmed and placed over any aching muscles; the beautiful Lobelia with its wonderful lobeline, which would stimulate the adrenal glands to produce epinephrine that would in turn relax the airways and allow easier breathing; Osha roots to help increase the circulation of to the lungs and help calm itchy lungs; the Chaparral herb with its yellow budding flowers and histamine response that would do well against allergic and inflammatory reactions, and many more such as some Oregano Tumeric and etcetera.

"Okay, I'm done!" She announces as she closes her bag.

Mamoru unfurls his tail from the wolf's neck, and she winces at the audible thump the wolf's body makes as it collapses to the ground in a dead faint.

Mamoru bounds over to her, looking refreshed. "Ohhhh," he croons innocently, his black eyes gleaming.

"At least you're putting your tail to good use on anybody but _me_ ," she comments blandly.

 **L.I.N.E.**

"Makino," a soft voice and a gentle touch to the back of her hand snap her out of her thoughts. With glazed eyes, Makino looks up at her long time friend who's staring at her with worry etched deeply onto her features.

"…Teri?" She tests, not knowing if she's really dreaming or not. She hasn't been sleeping properly ever since Luffy had up and disappeared, and she would frequently dream about several things whenever she would suddenly succumb to rest in random times of the day on the bar counter.

Things like Melissa coming down from the stairs, healthy and revitalized once again like before.

Like Woop Slap suddenly barging into the bar, exclaiming that he'd found Luffy.

Like Garp coming home with Luffy in his arms, both Monkeys grinning brightly at her.

And like this as well, where her dearest friend would come home suddenly from her business trip to the Goa Kingdom.

"I heard the news," Teri says, dark eyes sad. "How are you holding up?" She asks.

"…Are you real?" Makino asks instead, and she can tell by the anguished expression on her dear friend's face that she'd just broken her fragile heart.

"Oh, Makino," Teri cries softly, looking close to tears as she wraps her arms around the barmaid's shoulders and brings her head close to her chest. "Of course I'm real. Can't you feel this? Me right here, holding you?" She asks, and Makino feels something inside of her break once again for who knows many times it's been.

"Teri," Makino whimpers, and the floodgates behind her eyes finally open up, letting a river of tears cascade down both of her cheeks and most likely soaking her best friend's blouse.

"It's okay now, baby girl, I've got you," Teri murmurs, pressing her lips to Makino's head. She's rubbing circles on the younger girl's back soothe her the best she can. "I shouldn't have left. I knew something bad was gonna happen, felt it in my gut the moment I entered Goa Kingdom, but I figured it was the just my period acting up again," she says, and the way she says it with a serious kind of heat in her words makes Makino laugh.

"I'm just glad you're finally back," Makino sighs softly as she returns her friend's embrace.

"Yeah, and I won't be leaving any time soon until Luffy's found and Melissa's back on her two feet," Teri says stubbornly before pulling away. "I mean, look at you! You look like you just rolled out of your own grave! Have you been getting any sleep lately? Your eye bags are _huge_ and you look like you haven't eaten anything in a week! No wonder Sokka was so worried," Teri unashamedly adds in, grinning down at Makino's bland look.

"Still not saying yes to him," Makino says as she pulls away from Teri. She ignores the exasperated look her friend shoots her as she dries her wet cheeks with a clean handkerchief. "Besides, I don't have time to think about romance when I have a bar to manage, and mistress Melissa and Luffy to worry about," she sighs loudly, sniffing.

"Tell that to me in a few decades and you're a spinster," Teri huffs, rolling her eyes.

"I'd rather be a spinster than some easily won woman," Makino retorts. "Besides, the right man will come for me, even if it takes decades of waiting…And I'm already content with the people in my life right now," the barmaid says with a sigh, a sad smile stretching her lips.

Teri raises an eyebrow at her dear friend; looking unconvinced, before shooing the barmaid away back up her room for some beauty sleep whilst reassuring her friend that she'll be the one to watch over the bar in her stead.

 **L.I.N.E.**

There is a distinct sheen to the silvery-brown trunk of the Arjuna tree as the sun's rays filter through the dense foliage and reflect off of it. It's a beautiful sight, in her opinion, because she'd never expected to see an Arjuna tree in her entire lifetime, never mind her unexpected _second_ one.

She crouches down low on the grassy floor, where a pile of bark had peeled off from the Arjuna tree can be found. She picks one up, inspects its pretty reddish brown interior, and promptly breaks it into two.

The insides are clean, bare of any red ants, and she finds herself breathing out a sigh of relief.

It's just her luck that the Arjuna tree has already molted this time of the year, and that its bark hasn't been picked off yet by any humans or animals. She wonders if she's really _that_ fortunate, or if it's the work of the universe trying to appease Luffy's every adventure for the sake of some _progress_ in the storyline.

She breaks off a few pieces from the bark, just enough to fit in her bag, before she digs a hole in the ground next to the tree and buries the bark there. It wouldn't do the leave some valuable material behind for infestation; besides, if anybody came out here, they'd be smart enough to see the unnatural patch of dirt in the middle of the grassy area.

"I believe that's the last of it, Mamoru," she says to her companion, who lands next to her from where he was swinging on a branch.

Mamoru just coos adorably despite his killer tail whipping about behind him.

Now, with all of the herbs she needs packed up safely and securely in her trusty backpack, she's able to go back home.

Just as she's about to climb onto Mamoru's back, she freezes, a thought suddenly occurring to her. Her monkey companion seems to sense the turmoil happening within her, and he moves out from underneath her to check what's wrong.

That was apparently the wrong move; because without Mamoru supporting her from underneath, she falls to the ground in a messy heap.

"Ouch," she hisses, rubbing her sore chin. This has been the second time this week, and she worries that there might be some permanent disfigurement if her chin continues to bear the brunt of any damage.

But her chin is the least of her worries now, because once she goes back to Foosha village, what then?

She regrets not making any contingency plans any sooner.

Because once she arrives back home in Foosha village with a backpack full of herbs that would certainly help Melissa out, questions would arise from the minds of the citizens of Foosha village.

Because how could a two-year old girl who had run away in the middle of the night survive a week in a dangerous forest? How could a two-year old girl diagnose Melissa's sickness when she had no prior medical education? How could a two-year old girl know what herbs to collect, much less _understand_ the difficult terms used in the books of their village doctor?

Because there was no way any ordinary two-year old girl could do that. It was improbable, a zero-percent possibility of that ever working out, unless the two-year old girl wasn't _normal_ in the least.

There was a possibility that she would be seriously regarded as a prodigy, but the seed of _what if_ would have already been planted and would slowly lengthen its roots into everybody's mind until one day they would question her,

 _Why are you like this?_

Then slowly, they'd come up with suspicions about her. That she wasn't two-years old at all—that maybe she was some witch who had unfortunately possessed the body of Garp's granddaughter; or probably somebody who had the ability to shape-shift and had taken the place of Luffy; or maybe they'd guess right and say that she was actually decades older than the body she'd found herself shoved into.

Until eventually she would lose the trust that she had worked so hard to earn from the villagers; would lose the image they had of her as an innocent, carefree toddler who was slightly accelerated compared to others; would lose _everything_.

Because they'd find out.

They'd find out that she was nothing but a liar, a trickster, a deceiver, somebody who never truly belonged trying to fit in a world that wasn't even _hers_ to begin with.

And Luffy didn't want that. She didn't want to be an outcast yet again. She'd spent her entire high school life as one, and it wasn't the best ways to spend your high school life if you must know.

It was painfully obvious that her paranoia was acting up, and she couldn't really blame that crazy part of her mind for coming up with such outrageous ideas.

Here, she wonders what the villagers would think if they ever found out what she really is.

Would they treat her the same as always—with love and affection and gentleness? Or would they treat her with caution as one would do with a wild animal that they had no idea of how to tame?

It makes her sad—for doubting the people who had a hand in raising her for the second time—but one could never been too sure, after all. She had seen the hideous side of human beings, seen the havoc and pain it had caused to those of lower class in society or those who had no strong character to defend themselves or endure through the dagger-like words.

If she doubts, it's only to protect herself in the end.

And as she wallows in her miserable musings, a memory comes to light in her mind, one that has been hidden and pushed away for a _much_ later time.

" _Do you really think…I should have been born?"_

Ace's voice filters through her head, and she has so much to say to him—to tell a boy so young and lost as he is that he has every right to exist, that the son should never shoulder the parents' sins, that he will be so loved and wanted that so many would _die_ for him—but she can't because that would lead to disrupting the entire plotline at such an early time where canon has yet to truly unfold.

And yet, there's a small and nearly silent whisper that murmurs to her from the back of her mind.

 _Haven't you disrupted things already?_

And she has. She's fucked up the entire storyline by being born as a _she_ instead of a _he_ , and she sincerely doubts that the original Luffy had gone trotting off to the forest to find some herbs for Melissa considering the fact that one, he was _two_ freaking years old, and two, he hadn't studied Herbalism like she had.

Which leads to the most famous question, should she screw canon even more, or let things roll by?

Unfortunately for her, it doesn't seem like she'll be making the decision herself, because a shrill cry pierces through the once deceiving quietness of the forest and makes her snap out of her thoughts to see what on Earth is going on this time.

Oh for the love of umbrella-wielding Totoro.

There's another human in this forest aside from her. Another human who is currently under the mercy of Mamoru who in turn is gleefully (judging by his manic grin) choking the poor, small man with his deadly tail.

"Mamoru!" She cries out, rushing forward to push the monkey off. She freezes, however, when the monkey bares its fangs at her, and remembers that Mamoru is no tamed house dog but a _free_ and _wild_ creature. "Put him down, Mamoru," she says, this time in a softer voice, as she levels her gaze directly to Mamoru's.

She neither tilts nor lowers her chin.

She is his equal, for all their difference in species. He's helped her as she's helped him; she wouldn't have survived in this jungle if it weren't for him, and he would have lost more in his fight with the tiger if it were not for her.

Mamoru continues baring his fangs at her; nonetheless, his grip on the intruder's neck loosens somewhat.

Something gleams from the man's waist, and when her eyes land on it, she understands why Mamoru has reacted so violently.

The man has a short sword. Although it is sheathed safely by his side, the hilt of the sword's gleam is unavoidable and she remembers the way her Swiss knife had gleamed right before it burrowed its way through the tiger's flesh.

Mamoru had seen it her knife; of course he had; he'd been right there afterwards to save her from the tiger after her reckless move. He remembers it too, remembers its effectiveness and clear _threat_ to any who it's being used against, because why else would his beady black eyes be so full of fear and _killkillkillbeforeitkillsyou_ as he holds onto the man as if his very life depends on it.

Because it does in some way. He's only protecting himself in the end, just as she's protected herself with woven lies.

"Drop your weapon," she commands, eyes flicking to the short man's eyes. "He won't stop until you do," she tells him.

The man, who looks about ready to piss himself, struggles to untie the sash around his waist as quickly as he can whilst being suffocated. The yellow sash drops to the ground alongside with the short sword.

It takes a few more moments before Mamoru's dropped his hold on the man's neck; when he does, Mamoru is suddenly beside her in a flash, his terrifying tail wrapped snugly around her arm.

She watches as the man struggles to recompose himself—the slight bluish pallor to his tanned skin is starting to fade away as he greedily sucks in deep breaths of air to make up for what's been lost. He's short, probably twice or thrice her size in length, with a white turban covering his hair if he has any. His head is weirdly shaped, and because of that he looks like Stewie from Family Guy complete with glaring eyes that are solely trained on her.

But she doesn't mind the glare. She's dealt with enough glares in her life, most that are much scarier than his, that she's practically immune to it. What's most important, however, is his fashion sense.

"That jumper," she points out, gaze trained on the ugliest jumper she's ever seen. It's a horrid shade of pink with violet polka dots.

It looks as if a rainbow had vomited on it, tried to clean up the evidence with a wet rag, gave up and just cried sorrowful tears.

It is _horrendous_.

"What? What's wrong with it?" The man—or is it boy? But no, the Adam's apple in his throat and the small scuff of hair growing on his chin is evident enough to show that he's a man—asks, looking down at himself. "You gotta problem with it?" He scowls darkly.

You should burn it, is what she wants to say. Instead, she puts on an indifferent mask. "I've never seen one like it before," she says, vomiting out lies whilst what goes on in her head is _I wish I'd never seen one in my entire life_.

"Oh really," the man says, eyeing her suspiciously. "Learn to control your pet, by the way," he says, casting a glare at the monkey. But he shrivels back almost pathetically when Mamoru glares right back at him. "Keep it on a leash, will ya? Little bugger nearly killed me. Luckily for it I wasn't in a murderous mood," the man says, trying to boast though it fails ridiculously, before he adds. "Or I would have gutted it."

This time, it is _her_ who bristles. "Mamoru's a _he_ and he's not my pet," she retorts. "And I'd like to see you try to take him down," she says pointedly, chin tilted up haughtily.

The short man glowers darkly at her, before he shakes his head in what seems to be apparent yet reluctant acceptance. "Kids these days don't even know how to respect their elders," he sighs deeply, looking almost like he's sulking. "How old are you anyways? Five? Six? And what are you even doing out here?" He barrels off.

"That's none of your business," she answers curtly.

The man opens his mouth, ready to deliver a probably smart remark, before he pauses and seems to sniff the air. "You smell like a doctor," he states, before his gaze darts to the bag on her bag, which is brimming with freshly collected herbs. "… _Are_ you a doctor?" He tentatively asks, eyeing her with suspicion.

Her heart jumps to her throat just once at that question, and it takes a lot of willpower for her to pretend that there is no storm raging on inside of her. "Maybe," is the unexpected answer that tumbles out of her mouth a little bit _too_ quickly.

"Seriously, kid. It's a simple yes or no question. Are you or are you _not?_ " The man asks her impatiently. "I don't care how old you are, or if that pet of yours is a serial killer or something, or if _you_ are, but if you know how to treat somebody, I'm interested."

She eyes him suspiciously, backing off a few more feet. "My grandpa told me not to go with weird old men," she says, frowning disdainfully. "In fact, he told me not to go with _any_ kind of male."

The man sputters aloud; instead of it rushing towards his cheeks, the blood drains away from his entire face until he's a shade paler. "NO! That's not—what the fuck—why would I—UGH!" He huffs out loudly after his momentary breakdown. "Look. A friend of mine has been sick for the past few days and I don't have the Beli to even pay for an Edge Town doc. I'm really desperate here, so if you have any kind of brains for medicine, I'd really need it," he finally finishes.

She furrows her eyebrows. A few days of sickness? That was certainly something to be alarmed about. "This friend of yours, has he been having a fever for the past few days?" She asks.

"Yeah. And he's been bleeding through the nose and vomiting since five days ago, and he's recently gotten a big rash on his arm that we had to wrap up lest' he'd scratched the skin off."

Mother of sweet potatoes. If she thinks what she thinks this disease is, then this man is in some serious shit. "Any severe headaches? Muscle pain? Irritation behind the eyes?" She asks rapidly.

"Ugh, yeah," the man nods. "Do you know what's wrong with him?" He asks.

"Take us to him," she ignores the man's question. At the man's befuddled silence, she fixes a firm look on him. "We don't have time to spare. If this man has what I think he has, then he'll need a proper doctor. Soon, or else he might die if we wait around and treat it like an ordinary fever," she snaps, adjusting herself on Mamoru's back as the monkey wraps a tail around her waist to secure her.

The man's eyes widen in shock, a look of terror fleeting across his features before a mask of cold seriousness covers it up. With stiff shoulders, he nods.

"Okay," he agrees, before he turns on his heel and runs off.

Surprisingly, he's quite agile. If Mamoru wasn't carrying her, than she'd had lost him not even a minute later.

 **L.I.N.E.**

Shorty—she's not exactly the most creative with names, okay—eventually leads them to a house that looks more like an impressively large shack. She and Mamoru cautiously pad after Shorty, and she takes in everything she sees.

She spots a larger than average living room that most likely poses as the dining room as well—and she must say that there are a few interesting things around that looked to have come from nobles—and she tries her very best not to curl her lip once she sees the numerous empty bottles of alcohol scattered about, .

She doesn't exactly hate alcohol—she's a huge fan of it, or as much as a doctor her age can be without looking like some drug addict on her next shift—but it's the mess it leaves both physically and mentally that annoys her.

Shorty doesn't comment about the condition of the room; he just leads them to a hallway where there are several doors on either ends. They stop in front of the third one on the left, and Shorty turns to face her with dark eyes that don't quite meet her own.

"He's sleepin' in there," he says. "Hasn't been conscious in a while but that's good, right? Because whenever he's awake, he's only in pain," he informs her.

She doesn't say anything, but does take note of that.

Shorty quietly opens the door for her.

She takes a brief moment to take all that is Luffy—the brightness in such darkly colored eyes, the natural upward curve of lips, the unsteady hands—and bundles it up to temporarily store in the back of her head.

When she enters the room, she's _her_ again—with her sharp yet tired eyes, lips pressed together into a firm line, and hands that won't _ever_ shake—and she breezes towards the patient.

The man is large with slightly dark skin that looks to have come more from his Latino blood than from being hours out in the sun. True to Shorty's words, the man is suffering from a high fever that has left a reddish pallor to his skin as his immune system struggles to wash it out through sweat.

She checks his pulse first; it's weak, but it's clearly there and beating at an accelerated speed that is _definitely_ not normal.

"Has he eaten anything?" She asks, inwardly bemoaning over the lack of a stethoscope.

"I tried feeding him this morning but he spat it on my face," Shorty grimaces.

"Lack of appetite, huh," she murmurs as she checks his eyes, whose sclera are pinkish, and the dark bags underneath it could point to a lack of sleep from shivers. "Tell me he's at least drank something."

"Glass of water but nothing else today," Shorty says.

She feels her shoulders slump at that. One of the most important factors of healthcare was making sure that the patient stayed hydrated at most if not all of the time.

"Could you go and fetch me at least a jug of water? He needs to be hydrated as soon as possible," She requests. "And do you have any more blankets? This is too thin for him," she informs him, because despite there being a _thick_ comforter wrapped around the big guy, he needed _more_.

"We do. Just let me get them in the back," Shorty says before he scurries out of the door.

She barely hears the sound of the door opening and closing behind her, too focused on the patient before her. She remembers Shorty mentioning a rash on his friend's arm and when she goes to check both arms, she sees that the left one has bandages wrapped around it from the wrist to the elbow.

She carefully unwinds the wrappings, and she whistles at the alarmingly large rash that dots across his skin in angry red marks. She doesn't comment about it; instead, she winds the wrappings back and securely knots it just as the large man flinches and groans out loudly.

Her eyes flicker over to the man's face, and she watches as his features scrunch up with the signs of waking up whilst she pulls the comforter over him.

The man's eyelids flutter open and glassy, dark eyes stare up at the ceiling before they unfocusedly settle upon her. The man furrows his eyebrows as he squints, his cheeks flushing an even deeper shade of red from his fever and from the strain he's probably forcing himself into. "…Dogra?" The man croaks out, his breathing labored.

"I see Sleeping Beauty has finally awoken," she states blandly. "How are you feeling?" She asks.

The man blinks dazedly at her, before his eyes flicker to the right and he stares blankly for a good minute. "Bucket?" He tiredly asks.

"Bucket?" She voices aloud, before she looks around the room for said bucket. She spots the aforementioned object in a corner too far away from her, and she looks over to Mamoru. "Mamoru, sweetie, can you get that for me?" She requests.

The monkey does so; he picks up the metal object, goes over to her, and hands it to her awaiting hands.

When she looks into it, she sees that it's suspiciously empty but the nose-scrunching smell that wafts from its insides tells her what exactly it'd been used as.

"Ooookay," she cringes—because it's been far too long since she's handled this—and sets down the bucket. "Let me help you sit up," and she does. It takes quite a lot of effort with his big mass and her tinier one, but eventually she has him half-sitting up. "Here you go," she says, handing over the bucket to him.

The man promptly lowers his head and releases his insides into it.

"Let it all out," she coos as she rubs comforting circles on his back, counting how many times he's vomited.

After the sixth outtake, the man leans away from the absolutely horrendous-smelling bucket, which she gingerly takes and places on the ground right behind the bed's headboard.

Not a moment later, the door bangs open and in walks in Shorty who's carrying a pile of blankets with a jug of water balanced precariously on the top. Amazingly, he manages to set it all down on the table in the middle without affecting the wobbly stack. When Shorty finally looks up, he notices that his companion is awake and his eyes go platter-sized wide.

"Magra!" Shorty exclaims, hurrying over to his friend. "Are you feeling any better?" He asks.

The man, Magra, stares dazedly at him. "…Dogra," he names, and she decides that Dogra is a much better name than Shorty. "My stomach hurts," he grumbles as he lies back down on bed and promptly cocoons himself into the sheets.

"That's 'cause you haven't eaten anything today," Dogra retorts. "Here, drink some water. Doc said you'd need it," he says as he picks up the jug of water and hands it over to Magra.

Magra barely takes five sips before he hands it back, looking thoroughly worn out from the entire ordeal. Magra is asleep in seconds, if his thankfully even breathing is anything to go by.

She and Dogra get to quick work in bundling up with the piles of blankets brought; when they're done, she wastes no time in digging into her bag of herbs for what she needs to relieve the itchiness and most likely pain coming from the rash.

"Is it just the two of you here?" She questions, not only for small talk but also for just in case of anybody else getting infected.

Dogra freezes, and the look he sends her is suspicious and cautious.

How…curious.

"Look, I don't have the necessary equipment or medicine to treat Magra right now, so our best bet is to get to my village as soon as possible. We have a doctor there who barely asks for payment from anybody, and I'm sure he'll be happy to help you provided that you and your friend remain civil," she explains to him. "So if there's anybody else here, it'd be best to quarantine—well, make sure that they all stay out of Magra's room or else they'll get the same sickness that he has," she points out.

Dogra continues eyeing her badly for a coupe more seconds before he stubbornly looks away from her. "It's only us, the boss, and the kid," he finally answers.

"Boss?" She questions aloud, and it takes her a moment to connect the puzzle pieces together. Why the man had a short sword in the first place; why he and his friend lived in the middle of the mountain; why the heck they couldn't pay for a simple doctor when they had all these interesting stuff they could pawn off for money. "Oh my God, don't tell me you're _mountain bandits_ ," she says, looking at him with pleading eyes, because how could've she been so _stupid_ and _careless_.

If this is where the Dadan family lives, she swears she'll go right out and choke a bitch.

His silence is confirmation enough. "You see why I couldn't get a doctor from Edge Town?" He scowls bitterly. "None of 'em would ever help any of us mountain bandits unless we pay them a hefty price."

"Oh my gosh, you _are_ mountain bandits," she feels like crying. She honest to God feels like crying because what the hell. What the fucking hell. She didn't fucking sign up for this—didn't fucking sign up to help some sick mountain bandit.

 _Luffy_ is supposed to _hate_ mountain bandits, and here she is _helping_ one and most likely revealing her secret affinity for medicine.

"We are, but we stopped all that _pillaging_ years ago 'cause we got caught," Dogra tries to fan out the flames he'd caused.

Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. "Who caught you?" She asks, feeling her voice go a pitch higher as she feels her heart beat faster and faster until it's practically beating the speed limit in her city.

Dogra grimaces.

She closes her eyes.

Dogra opens his mouth.

She tries to mentally prepare herself.

"Garp the Hero did."

A bemoaning wail slices through the air, causing a few tropical birds to fly out from the foliage of the trees nearby.

 **L.I.N.E.**

 **AN:** Lololol. Okay! Chapter 6 is finally done. I'm sorry for the long wait, guys I'm still in school, with just two more days left ahaha, so I hope I'll be able to update more frequently than the Hiatus I'd gone for nearly two months for this pretty fic. I'm sure you have a lot of questions, and I'll be happy to answer it for you .

 ***Why is Luffy able to talk to animals?**

This ability has honestly been on my mind since _The Voice Of All Things_ had been revealed and given a brief description by Oda. Canon! Luffy has been shown to have this ability—as he is able to understand Ryu from one of the filler arcs, hear the voices of Sea Kings during the Fishman Island Arc, and most recently in the Zou Arc where he clearly _heard_ the huge ass elephant-shaped tree speak. S!Luffy has only activated because one, she'd undergone a very stressful situation where she honestly thought she would _die_ in (I had to literally interview a junior of mine who had experienced having fallen into the snake pit in the zoo during one of her filed trips and was _traumatized_ by the whole ordeal); two, after her own soul have been able to safely traverse through the passage of life and death and make it into a reality that isn't _hers_ would have some serious spiritual effects (some clairvoyants claim to have been reincarnated, which is the answer as to why they have psychic abilities) on her; three, after she'd been born as _Luffy_ her soul basically merged with his, though she did come out as the dominant personality as Luffy didn't have the time to gain that endless willpower to live that Garp had instilled into him since he was a kid, so she'd been able to gain at least a handful of _his_ birthright as a D. and a hearer of _The Voice_.

Essentially, Luffy _can't_ exactly talk to animals. She can only _see_ what they're feeling, and it's only up to the extent if she looks into their eyes. For now, she's only able to understand animals (idk about the rest) and her affinity leans more towards primates than any other animal. I'm not making her super-powered, guys. She's fucking _two_ ( a _really_ weird two-year old, but she's the current bearer of the Will of D and what other D isn't really weird?) so she has to have _some_ limits. I've just given her a merit from her reincarnation, so it's up to her if she wants to cultivate it or not.

 ***Why a fucking monkey?**

Because, why _not?_

 ***Will she reveal her secret?**

Well…she _has_ to at some point, to be honest. Bottled up feelings can do damage, and although _she_ has shown to be pretty sturdy so far, I'm not yet sure about the future because what she's going through is obviously _fucked up_. But, well…whether she decides to keep it a secret and bottle it all up or not is my decision.

 ***Ace I'm waiting**

The funniest review yet. If he makes an appearance or not ('cause who said he's in the Dadan house, huh?) is up to me, mwahaha.

* **Oh my God, she's** _ **two**_ **.**

Yes, she is. She should be dead right now, to be honest, and the only answer I can offer is plot armor and _anime_.

 ***Pirate or Marine?**

Mwahahahahahaha.

* **Melissa, cured?**

No comment.

Btw guys, any grammatical/spelling errors pointed out would be appreciated Keep 'em reviews coming up, and also those private messages ehehe. Love ya'll. On another note, holy shit, Luffy battled a tiger. That shouldn't have been there tbh, but I wanted a fight scene and here you go.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** "I am not the liable owner or creator of One Piece. I am but a mere humble fan fiction writer."

 **L.I.N.E.**

 _Melissa had mentioned it one time: that one language she'll only ever love._

 _It's one that the tongue could never weave, one that boys her naive age back then could never understand unless they decided to learn it themselves, and one that has been passed on from sister to sister in her family for_ generations _._

 _Melissa had said that the language of flowers was a sacred thing to girls, because when girls had_ nothing _back then_ — _no education, no independency, no self-worth, no_ freedom— _they had_ flowers _._

 _Flowers that would serve as messages disguised as pretty little things_ — _served as messages that required no pen to write with or knowledge to read with_.

 _Melissa would regal her with stories of her youth sometimes, if she was ever in the reminiscent mood. That back then she had been as pretty a lass as Makino is, that her now whitened hair had once been a blazing fiery red and her now tired eyes had once been full of life in a time now lost._

 _That long ago, she had been courted by several eligible bachelors; she had even boasted about one of them being a noble from High Town! Before, she had been gifted with love letters, poems, serenades, perfumes, dresses, and fancy jewelry_ _—all of which she had denied, because she didn't know how to read back then, which had ruled out all the letters and poems, and none of the serenades were particularly enticing to the ears, and any materialistic objects that she had received were pawned off, and the money that she earned from that was used to build Party's Bar._

 _Yet, like any young lady with at least an ounce of love kept warmed in their hearts, she had eventually found_ the one _._

 _And it had been in a stubborn, silver-tongued, good for nothing Marine lad that had only been nothing but_ good _and_ sweet _and irritatingly_ charming _to her._

 _It was a love that wasn't meant to be_ — _one that would only bring sorrow and tragedy to both ends_ — _yet the two of them allowed it to fester and grow to something that led to bittersweet hope._

 _He had taught her many things whenever he'd stay_ — _things that mattered so little to him but meant so much more to her. He taught her how to read, how to write, how to do_ math _and if it hadn't been for him then this bar would've probably been some rundown joint that had gone bankrupt ages ago._

 _In turn, she taught him what_ she _knew. To always have a handkerchief with him just in case because you never knew when you'd need one, to sew the holes that would suddenly appear in his uniform after a hard day at duty, and to_ keep his motherfucking tongue in that goddamn mouth of his or she'd snip it off for Poseidon's sake _._

 _But, most importantly, she'd taught him her beloved language._

 _And it had always made her day whenever he'd come running into the bar with either a single flower or a whole bouquet of it_ just for her _._

 _A reseda, which meant that he valued her qualities more than her charms._

 _Red peonies to signify his unyielding devotion to her._

 _Purple pansies surrounding a Heart's Ease to remind her that she would always be in his thoughts as he would hopefully be in hers._

 _A justicia that had made her blush since it meant that she was the very epitome of a woman._

 _The vines of the weeping willow wrapped around the stems of ash-leaved trumpet flowers, milkvetch and primroses to keep it held securely together, which held the meaning that their period of separation was one that he would always mourn for because without her, the pain inside of him wouldn't reside and it was something he couldn't live with if not for the reminder of her._

" _They were all very lovely" Melissa had told her, wrinkly face soft and eyes brighter than usual, as she showed her one of the books where she kept the flowers pressed._

 _When Luffy flipped to the last page, she saw a wilted hexagram-shaped flower pressed to the worn page._

 _Melissa told her that it was a jonquil_ — _a flower once as white as a bride's dress with small yellow clusters of blooms in the center_ — _and it had meant that he desired a return of her affections._

 _It had been the last flower he would give her, because a month after he should have returned_ — _should have come back to her bar, where she would be waiting with a bouquet of garden daisies to give to him_ — _a message had been sent from his family in far, far away West Blue._

 _He had died, and his funeral had been held on a date two weeks before the letter had reached her. The letter detailed that he had died heroically in battle_ — _that he had sacrificed himself for the lives of his men by facing against the enemy pirate crew to buy time for his own company to retreat to safer waters_.

 _And, most heartbreakingly, within the envelope the letter had been safely sealed within, there was a red rose._

" _I cried for weeks," Melissa had said, tired eyes back once more. "I cried for the moments that could have been if I had stopped hesitating, if I had grabbed that silly necktie of his and kissed him with everything I had, if I had said_ yes _sooner, then maybe…maybe he would have thought about me before sacrificing his life for others…" Melissa had murmured, her gaze strayed to the floor. "There was no other men after him, Luffy. He had ruined me for others, because whenever some charming lad would try to woo me, I'd only ever see him in my eyes and my heart had long stopped beating when his had perished."_

 _She had stayed silent the whole time as she listened to Melissa, knowing deep down what she must have felt. Unrequited love may be a drop of ink compared to_ tragic _love, but the pain of_ what if _was all the same._

 _The weight of a hand on her head brought her back to reality, and she looked up at Melissa who was wryly smiling at her. "Word of advice from an old lady like me," Melissa started. "Take a chance, Luffy, because you won't know when you'll regret it."_

 _She nodded wordlessly, her own gaze downcast as pessimism ate her up._

 _What was there to take, when no one would give it?_

 **L.I.N.E.**

"Are you, um, okay?" Dogra asks her, fidgeting from where he's standing right near the window. With the way his gaze keeps flicking outside every so often, it looks as if he's about ready to bolt anytime soon.

It doesn't help that Mamoru is looking at him with murder in his eyes, as if Dogra is the one at fault for Luffy's sudden terror.

Which, technically, Dogra is just a _part of_.

She looks at him with wide, wide eyes. "Where's your boss and the kid?" She asks him in a hysterically high-pitched voice, her face a shade paler than it usually is.

Dogra's eyes stare up at the ceiling in contemplation. "Not sure about the kid, since he's usually off adventuring at this time of the day to who knows where, but the boss should be back from the Goa Kingdom tonight," he answers.

"And the name of your boss?" She asks, even though deep down in her gut there's something dark and heavy that curdles _hideously_ because she _knows_ the answer to that and it's so stupid of her to even _ask_.

Yet, she can't help but hope that she won't have to fuck things up anymore because dammit she's not ready yet!

Dogra squints his dark eyes at her suspiciously. "Who's to say you won't sell out our location?" He asks her then.

Wow. She can't help but be impressed because that was some pretty good deducing. Still, she gives him a deadpanned look. "I'm a _kid_ ," she emphasizes whilst gesturing to her entire, obviously, kid-like body. "I don't even _know_ where to sell your location."

"Yeah, but still," Dogra stubbornly huffs, crossing his arms.

Did he just?

Yeah, he _did_.

Crossing _her_ arms, she cocks a hip and gives him her best unimpressed stare. "Look, I don't know what I have to do to earn your trust, but the best thing I can do is a pinky swear. So you decide whether we shake pinkies or I leave you to deal with your friend," she offers, holding out her right pinky finger and hoping to any deity out there that he wouldn't slice it off with maybe that pickaxe that was suspended on the wall right there and how the fuck didn't she notice that.

"…"

"…"

"Fine," Dogra decides, grimacing.

After performing the ritual pinky swear complete with pressed thumbs, Dogra finally spits out the answer. "The boss's name is Curly Dadan," he says, chest puffing out. "And _we_ are the Dadan Family! The most notorious mountain bandits in all of East Blue!" He announces proudly.

"…But there's only four of you," she says, dubiously regarding his claim. When Dogra suddenly grins darkly, she's quick to say, "I don't even want to know."

"The rest are off on vacation," the mountain bandit says with a helpless shrug.

"Uhuh, sure."

"I'm Dogra, by the way, and the man you're treating is Magra," Dogra finally introduces himself, even though she's managed to pick that up by herself but he doesn't need to know that and she merely nods politely in turn.

Now that she's thinking about it, she _really_ should have recognized them—the two, while minor characters, had played a somewhat important role in ASL's origin story, and nobody could ever forget Dogra running back home to deliver the ' _oh no, guys! Sabo's dead!'_ news and that cringingly _awful_ jumpsuit of his—but hey, she didn't have a single clue that she'd be reincarnated into this world as _Luffy_ so she never really bothered studying for the goddamn thing, and the Dadan family, especially the background characters, hadn't really been mentioned in what? Fifty episodes? A hundred?

A One Piece fan she may be, but she had been a physician first and foremost in her past life, so it'd honestly been more expected from her to memorize every single thing about the human body than the _entire detailed plotline and characters of One Piece._

"If you don't mind me asking, doc, but what's your name?" Dogra asks her.

Oh yeah, where were her manners. "My name's Luffy," she introduces herself in turn, purposefully leaving out her last name and middle initial for all the trouble it would have caused if she'd mentioned it.

"Huh. Weird name."

"Like yours isn't," she retorts, turning her back to him when it looks like he's about to pull out some witty remark from his ass. "Do you have any mortars and pestles? Or anything I can use to grind with? These herbs don't prepare themselves, you know," She immediately asks for, grinning to herself when she hears Dogra stop short from whatever he had to say.

"…I'l go get it," Dogra sighs in defeat before he scurries out of the room.

Something narrow and furry wrapping itself around her wrist catches her attention, and she doesn't even have to check to know that Mamoru has wrapped his tail around it.

She affectionately pats him on the head in reply. "You just wait, Mamoru. We'll be back home soon," she murmurs to him.

 **L.I.N.E.**

A few hours later, when her fingers have been stained with the essence of several different herbs and her vision has started to grow a little blurry around the edges from what could be her lack of sleep, she is startled by the sudden slamming of a door, which is strong enough to shake the entire house.

"What the fuck!" She curses aloud, trying her very best to hold down the table.

She's starting to regret letting Mamoru, her beautiful, _beautiful_ bodyguard, off on his stroll in the forest where he is able to vent out his inner hulk to unfortunate animals.

"DOGRA!" A—well, she's not really sure, because it sounds like some kind of inhumane combination between a shriek and a roar— _something_ echoes throughout the entire house.

Once she's half sure that another tremor won't disrupt her work place, she hurries off to check on Magra who's blearily opening both of his eyes.

"B-B-B," Magra is stammering out, his voice gruff.

"Hush, you," she tells him as she prepares a glass of cool water for him to drink. "It's none of your business now. You're job is to get some rest and to get ready for the journey tomorrow," she basically orders him as she helps him sit up and hands him the glass of water to drink.

He drinks the whole glass, much to her relief and contentment. "J-Journey?" He asks her, blinking sleepily.

She ushers him back into bed and helps him cover himself up with the layers of blankets. "We'll be going to my village tomorrow. There's a doctor there who'll be able to help you get better," she informs him, before pushing some blankets aside to get access to his bandaged arm. After checking his rash and replacing the chamomile leaves with a fresh batch, she wraps a new roll of bandages over his arm before discarding the used ones into an empty bucket right next to the vomit bucket.

"Oh…" Magra murmurs off, eyes drooping to a close every so often. "I-I'm Ma…Magra," her manages to stumble out.

She gives him a small albeit amused smile for his efforts. "I know. And I'm Luffy, you're temporary doctor," she introduces for the second time that day. "I have a monkey named Mamoru, but he's off on his own adventure right now so you won't be able to see him until maybe tomorrow," she adds, in case that he might wake up one time to Mamoru peering creepily at him from the wooden supports on the ceiling.

Magra nods sleepily, and she can tell he hadn't understood a single word she'd said, before he closes his eyes for sure this time and allows himself to be dragged back into sleep.

She stands by the side of his bed for a few more minutes, checking on his pulse and changing the moist towel on his forehead for the thirteenth time for a colder one, then she goes out of the room to check what was all that earlier commotion about.

"Dogra?" She calls out for the midget mountain bandit, wondering what has happened. "Dogra? Are you still alive?" She calls out once more, this time in a much louder voice.

She hears a response a moment of stillness later in the form of booming footsteps that most definitely _do not_ belong to a man of Dogra's size. Whirling around, she positions her right foot back, remembering what basic martial art stances she remembers from those crappy T.V. shows she used to watch during her woe is me sessions in her apartment.

The first thing she sees is a very wide waist squishing against a leather brown belt that would have looked amazing on this one dress she had in her past life.

She drags her gaze upward, and meets the gaze of who could undeniably be Curly Dadan, whose infamous mane of orange hair starts of as tight dreads at the scalp then flows freely into a low ponytail of messy curls from the nape and then on.

"Who the hell are you?" Dadan snarls, teeth bared at her, which emphasizes just how dark her lips are from _years_ of smoking and not just some shade of lipstick.

"I'm Luffy," she answers, forcing herself to grin as _fuck, fuck, fuck_ powers up her train of thoughts.

Dadan narrows her eyes at her. "I wasn't asking for your shitty name. I wanted to know _who_ are you and what the hell are you doing in my house?!" Dadan demands, bending over by the waist to pick her up by the scruff of her shirt.

The fabric of her shirt digs painfully into her armpits, and she has to hold herself up with the use of Dadan's meaty fingers to prevent herself from slipping out of her shirt and showing her flat tits.

Dammit. She knew she shouldn't have let Mamoru wonder off.

"I'm here to help Magra," she says through clenched teeth, forced grin still on her face. She reigns in her temper, thinking rationally that it certainly wouldn't do to piss off a mountain bandit boss who could easily chop her head with a single swing of an axe.

"HUH?!" Dadan exclaims loudly, glaring at her with an incredulous expression on her face. "But you're just a tiny brat!" Dadan yells as she shakes her roughly.

"I-It's the truth!" She yells back, clenching tighter to Dadan's fingers as stars begin to appear in her vision.

Fortunately for her, Dogra appears and she's never been so thankful to see his awful fashion sense.

"B-Boss!" The midget bandit cries out, before he latches himself to Dadan's leg and starts tugging on her belt to stop her from continuously shaking Luffy. "Don't hurt her! She's the doctor that I was telling you about earlier!" He pleads loudly.

"HUH?!" Dadan exclaims once more. "This brat is supposed to be the damn doctor?! But she's a _brat!_ " Dadan emphasizes her words by giving her a rough shake.

"But she's a _smart_ brat!" Dogra informs his boss. "And she knows what she's doing! She—she knows how to help Magra, boss!"

"How many fucking times do I have to tell you, Dogra?!" Dadan practically _screams_ , and there is a wrathful kind of fire that burns darkly in her eyes that makes _her_ shrink back in fear. "Magra's a lost cause! There's nothing we can do for him! He's dead meat, you hear me?! I've seen plenty of our men die from the same kind of shit he's caught, and I'm sure as hell he won't be the first to live through it!" She hurls out of her powerful lungs. "So don't get your hopes up when some doctor finally agrees to help and say that they know what's wrong when in fact they can't even do anything and are just fooling you for the Beli, you idiotic fool!"

The silence that takes place afterwards would have been nearly deafening if not for Dadan's heavy panting.

"God fucking dammit," Dadan wheezes out as she lets go of her to place a shaky hand on her heaving chest.

She plops onto the ground with a heavy thump, landing first on her bum. It's a painful fall, but the physical pain is nothing compared to the emotional turmoil that makes it feel as if her heart is about to burst with _everything_ that has pained her when people doubted her.

She wishes she had the straw hat. She wishes that she had _any_ hat, because she's sure that the look in her eyes is just as ugly as the way Dogra's face has tearfully scrunched up.

"It's true that I can't do anything," she says as she breathes out, and already she can feel the intent gazes on her from both mountain bandits. "I'm just a brat, like you've said, and I don't really have _anything_ that can cure Magra of his disease." She pauses for a moment to take in a deep breath as well as to mentally prepare herself for the explanation she's about to give. "But the two of you _have_ to understand what Magra's suffering from right now. Your friend is undergoing a disease called _,_ from what I've learned, _dengue_ and it is a fast-spreading viral disease that can _kill_ within the duration of either a week or, unfortunately, an entire _month_ if not treated properly. I'm guessing that Magra's illness started when a mosquito carrying the dengue virus had infected him, which is the most likely conclusion since tropical areas such as this forest are usually a common breeding ground for mosquitoes and I hardly doubt that at least one of them isn't carrying a virus. Dogra has already informed me of Magra's symptoms that has appeared over the past week—high fever, migraines, stabbing pain behind the eyes, severe muscle pain, nausea, nose bleeds, rashes and _vomiting_ , which he has done four times for the past five hours, and it all alarmingly points out that he has _dengue_. Usually, dengue would be combated by keeping the patient fully rested and hydrated, however…" She licks her dry lips. "I've noticed that Magra has been taking _too_ much rest and not enough water, which is why he hasn't gotten better. Another reason could be that this is _not_ his first time catching dengue, which would be incredibly worrisome because it might mean he has dengue hemorrhagic fever and that is _much_ worse than the average dengue because it could lead to the enlargement of the liver, failure of the circulatory system, massive bleeding then most likely death…" She trails off. "I'm concerned that he already _has_ hemorrhagic fever because he's been vomiting, bleeding through the noise and experiencing joint pains yet that could also be because of dehydration, but we'll see once he gets his blood checked and a dextrose in his wrist…"

She starts, to Dadan and Dogra's point of view, rambling out a bunch of confusing and complicated terms for a few more minutes until the mountain bandit boss interrupts her.

"Okay, we fucking get it," Dadan grumbles as she massages her aching temple. "He has this dengue, maybe hemo-something fever, so what do we do about it?" She demands, but in a softer and less intimidating voice.

She stares for a good and long moment.

 _Breathe, Luffy,_ she tells herself. If there is one thing she doesn't really miss about being doctor, it is the _redundancy_ and _weariness_ of having to explain to anybody without any knowledge of first aid or medicine _what is going on_.

 _Fucking breathe and don't explode_ , she reminds herself once more. " _We_ ," she emphasizes. "Will bring Magra to Foosha Village tomorrow," she ends curtly.

"F-F-Foosha?!" Both bandits exclaim.

"Are you insane?!" Dogra cries out, holding his head in both hands. "That's where Garp lives! He'll kill us _then_ lock us up in hell if he sees us there!" He looks close to actually _crying_ as he shudders at the imagination of Garp grinning evilly down at him.

She…actually feels pretty bad, because if only these bandits knew how much of a fucking marshmallow her grandpa could be. "He won't," she says offhandedly. "We're on pretty good terms, so I'm sure I'll be able to talk him out of imprisoning you," she grins brightly after that, and it's not like the one she'd forced on a while ago. "Besides, there's a doctor in Foosha Village who I'm sure will be able to help Magra more than I can, and he's the _only_ one I know on Dawn Island who will most likely help you," she adds as she wonders what would Cocoi's reaction be once he sees the mountain bandits she's brought back to his clinic.

"And how much would your friend charge?" Dadan inquires, peering suspiciously at her.

She clenches her fists and it takes a lot of her willpower to keep them glued to her sides. Her grin transforms into a bland, _bland_ smile, before she answers with utmost professionalism. "I'm sure you'll find his price range to be accommodatingly low," she says in a steady voice, swallowing down any insults that threateningly creep up her throat. "But it's your decision. Whether you'll condemn Magra to a slow and painful death or not. Just know that I'll be waiting for your answer tomorrow morning," she finishes before turning on her heel and making her way back to Magra's room to steam off.

 **L.I.N.E.**

A few more hours later—when the yelling and hushed whispering from outside of the room finally quiet down, and the ugly sensation swirling right next to her heart has disappeared—she sets down whatever she's holding and admits to herself that she hasn't really accomplished anything.

"…What do I do," She murmurs to herself, sighing heavily through her nose afterwards.

The idea—more like problem—of going back to Foosha weighs heavily upon her conscience as the Sky has on Atlas's shoulders. She still doesn't know what to do, has no idea what to _say_ when the time comes and somebody asks:

 _Where have you been?_

 _How are you still alive?_

 _How do you know all of this?_

She knows she can't just _wing it_ —you don't do that when the situation is serious and you have no answer for _why_.

She's scared, she knows that; in a common moment of self-doubt, she wonders _why_ had she been reincarnated as Luffy.

She's the farthest thing from the man who's destined to become Pirate King, an _ant_ compared to the greatness that he had been, is, _will be_. He's strong, charismatic, funny, honest, courageous, and willing to _die_ for anybody he calls his own.

Her?

She's _nothing_ like him. _Nothing_. She can hardly hold her own against a two hundred-pound tiger, smile as bright (or as menacing) as a Monkey is known for, make a joke to even save her life, _say the goddamn truth to those who deserve it_ , muster up the balls to _be_ honest, and she's—

…

She _is_ willing to die for those who call her own. If she hadn't been, then she wouldn't be in this stupid forest having a stupid reflection of her stupid worth in this stupid life; so what if she shares just _one_ trait with him? It still doesn't change anything.

She is not Monkey D. Luffy, and she suspects that she never will be. She's known too much— _lived too long_ —to be the free-spirited boy she _loves_ when the burden of the world is visible upon her shoulders.

( _Once upon a time, there was a young boy who dared to dream._

 _Once upon a time, there was a young girl who dared to open a manga named, "One Piece.")_

And it's with that knowledge that she is _afraid_.

( _The boy grew up into a young man who challenged the very world itself for those he called_ friend _and_ brother _._

 _The girl grew into a young woman who cowed from those who could have been.)_

Because people will die—she knows who, have read and watched with a tightness in her throat—and what makes her most afraid is that she has the choice to do something about it; to change things, but for the better or worse she knows not.

And she…

"I don't know what to do," she whispers to herself, and she finds herself sitting down on the floor from the very weight of her words.

It has always been like this for her. Never knowing what to do with herself because she was always _afraid_ —afraid of the consequences, of the repercussions that she would have to face if she started going after luxuries than necessities.

( _Once upon a time, there was a young man who chased after freedom, never fearing and never backing down._

 _Once upon a time, there was a young woman who allowed herself to be dragged into a cage, always fearing and never standing up._ )

 _Knock. Knock_.

She immediately freezes up, the bottom of her palms staying glued to her eyelids.

A moment passes.

 _Knock. Knock._

Slowly, she lets her arms fall to her sides. Slowly, she gets up from where she's sitting pitifully on the floor.

 _Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock._

The knocking grows impatient, but that's enough to motivate her limbs to move just a little bit faster.

"I—Sorry," she squeaks, her voice unnaturally high-pitched that makes even her wince. Her hand grabs onto the brass doorknob, twists it, and wrenches the door open. "I was doing something—" she falls short, however, when she sees who's been on the other side of the door.

Hint: It's not Dogra or Dadan at the door.

Instead, a young boy stands in front of her with probably the meanest expression she's ever seen on a child as young as he, and instantly she knows who he is.

She would have slammed the door right in his face—she's not kidding. She _really_ would have and probably would have broken his nose in the process—but she's too stunned to even _breathe_.

"…Who are you?" Ace—goddamn _Ace_ —asks her after a beat of silence, his eyebrows digging a deeper furrow over the top of the bridge of his nose, and he glares at her with such intensity that doesn't look right on a boy his age.

 _How old is he?_ She mentally wonders as she swallows down the imaginary lump that has accumulated in her throat. "I'm Luffy," she supplies.

Judging by how his lips twist into a scowl, he isn't all that pleased with her answer. "I don't care what your name is," he spits out.

 _What a rude little piece of shit_ , she can't help but think as she flinches because _wow_ she knew he was rude but really? That was just enough douchiness to rival a grown man's.

Still, she keeps the words in her mouth by thinning her lips.

"Where's the doctor?" Ace asks, but it sounds like more of a demand than anything else, as he bodily pushes her out of his way and walks into the room.

She rams shoulder first into the frame of door, and she cringes at the pain that shoots up from the bruises that had already formed there from her stay in the jungle. "Okay. One, ouch," she starts off, pushing herself away from the door frame as she rubs the bruises in her shoulder that she just knows are darkening in color. "And two, _I'm_ the doctor," she informs him as she crosses her arms and cocks her hip.

His reaction is comical, and what makes it even funnier is that it's an exact replica of the one he'd made in the anime—his eyes widened and lips puckered out to an unnatural length and all.

"HUH?!" He exclaims, disbelief written all over his face. " _You're_ the doctor?!"

She can't help smiling in amusement because she can't really blame him. Even _she_ wouldn't believe that she was a doctor if she was in his place, no matter how annoying it was that this was everyone's reaction to her not-anymore-profession. "Yep," she pops out as she makes her way back to her little table of herbs.

She eyes the little vial of extracted hawthorn berry juice, wondering if she should have picked a couple more berries if all she would get was this tiny amount.

A plate being loudly placed on top of her pretty, little, and incredibly precious Lobelia flowers catches her attention, and she's quick to grab the plate up before any damage has been done. "Hey!" She cries out as she sets down the plate on a spot that's safely cleared of anything important.

She blinks, however, when she sees a large and roasted pork cutlet sitting innocently on the plate.

"Is this his blood?" Ace questions as he holds up the vial of hawthorn juice and peers into with a kind of fascination typical to rowdy boys his age.

She can't help the bark of laughter that escapes her. "It's juice," she informs him, and watches as his cherub cheeks flash a pretty shade of red.

"I knew that!" Ace growls as he none too gently places the vial on the table.

She barely hears him, her attention solely focused on his most attractive trait.

"Oh," she says, a tad bit breathless and making her sound like one of those old ladies just _creeping_ in the hallways and waiting for the perfect chance to attack innocent, chubby-cheeked kids. "You have such lovely freckles," she can't help smiling because it's been so long since she's seen a child—an adorable, scowling child, which is one of the best, even though said child is a huge part of future events that will rock the entire world.

His cheeks flush a deeper shade of red and suddenly, as she's observes him with bright eyes, she starts to forget.

Forgets the what ifs and consequences.

Forgets the future and the damn plot.

Forgets the pirate with fire in his fists and sees only a boy with the meanest expression she's ever seen.

She sees only _Ace_.

And her heart cracks a little _because no kid should live like this, shrouded in insecurities and responsibilities too old for him_.

And she hates herself a little for thinking that it would be better off leaving things as it is.

Because leaving _him?_ Leaving a boy so lonely and so lost for another half decade to fester in his own self-hatred?

How could she start changing things when she couldn't even do it now?

Because if now wasn't the time, then when would it ever be?

She thinks of the children like him—of the people, _not characters_ , who are children in the present.

She thinks of Sabo running away from a home that has never felt like one.

Of Zoro training himself to the ground for the promise shared with a dead friend.

Of Nami weeping miserably as she graphs down map after map for a pirate gone mad.

Of Ussop screaming out lies every single day to tuck in the hurt in his heart.

Of Sanji wondering what was so wrong with himself to deserve the scorn of his blood relatives.

Of Vivi and Chopper and **so many more that could have been** _ **happy**_ _._

 _(She thinks of her nephew and wonders how he is right now. Is he eating right? Did he make any new friends at school? Is her sister treating him right?)_

And she sees the answers to her questions in a boy so lonely and lost.

"I—wha—S-Shut up!" Ace growls out as menacing as a baby monkey, meaning that it's far cuter than it is as scary.

Ace makes a move to get out of the room as quickly as he can; surprisingly, she moves quicker than him.

"Wait!" She's squeaking out right after her hand has clamped down on his lower arm with enough strength to actually make him pause. " _Wait_ ," she says in a much softer voice as _fuck, fuck, fuck_ dances like some kind of tribe across her mind.

Okay, she did not plan this one out.

"What," Ace says bluntly as he turns to face her, face just a lighter shade of red as he stares down at her incredulously. His arm stays in her grip but judging by the way the muscles there twitch, she's safe to assume that he's about ready to pull it back any second now.

"Could you stay?" She blurts out, and oh gosh that was just _bad_. Bad enough to land in her top ten worse word vomits _ever_. "I mean, it gets kinda lonely here with nobody but myself and Magra over there, but even he's no good 'cause he's kinda knocked out, and I'm just really really bored and could use somebody to talk to but you don't have to if you don't want to unless you _want_ to and that's perfectly fine for me."

Oh god, her brain to mouth filter just _abandoned_ her.

Ace just stares at her.

He stares at her for quite a long time that it's starting to unnerve her just a little bit.

She expects him to say no—hopes just a little bit that he'll say no just for her to salvage what little dignity she has left.

She lets go of his arm.

The sudden action seems to have snapped him out of whatever doozy he's probably been thinking about because he blinks.

He stares at her for a little longer—and is he scrutinizing her?

Finally, after a terribly awkward long while, he slowly nods his head as if even _he_ isn't sure with what he's agreeing to. "Sure," he says, sounding just the exact opposite.

And she internally bemoans her entire existence because why oh why did she just have to have such a fucking soft spot for children.

Externally, she gives him a little crooked smile as she thanks him.

 **L.I.N.E.**

Ace, despite his glares and scowls and utter rudeness, is still a child. A little socially stunted, but still a child nonetheless; like every child out there, he is naturally curious about things he has no knowledge of and does not hesitate to ask.

She finds it truly refreshing to have him as company, because it's been quite a long—and traumatizing—time since she's been treated as an equal instead of as a kid who knows _nothing_ about the world, so she answers his question without so much as a hesitant or doubtful thought.

His questions are simple enough—What is that? What does it do? Where did you get that?—but he eventually brings out the big guns when there's no more herbs to talk about.

"Where did you learn all this?" Ace asks her, his gaze straying from the leaflet he'd been fiddling with to meet her own.

Her hands go very still from where they're hovering above her precious Arjuna bark, and there's a sudden tightness in her throat. "I, um, just read a lot," she answers, and it's not a lie nor is it the _complete_ truth.

Ace raises a single eyebrow as he eyes her speculatively and suspiciously. "And you learned all this by reading?" He scoffs, not believing her in the slightest.

She frowns. "Don't underestimate books," she scolds him, withholding the _after all, you were (are?) in one_ that creeps up her throat. "You can learn a lot from just opening one."

"Books are useless," Ace bluntly retorts. "They're boring and the only use they have is for hitting stupid people's heads with them."

Her frown deepens, and she feels her temper rising just a little bit because her object of affection is being directly insulted. "They're not useless," she insists. "They're a way to pass down knowledge from one person to another, especially if the one who'd written it was dead and wanted their words to last forever. Books are there to help inspire you, to help you gain a wider understanding of everything around you, and it helps you improve yourself. They're there to help you learn from other's mistakes, to help you learn from you own, and I'm rambling again aren't I?" She laughs a little, her cheeks flushing a bit from embarrassment.

Ace just stares at her—he's been doing that a lot, she notices—before he blinks and shrugs. "You talk a lot," he comments, both of his eyebrows rising up as if he's just realized this.

"I do," she agrees. Even in her past life, she's been known as a chatterbox, which is probably what's annoyed others because they usually didn't understand what she was talking about or they just weren't all that interested. "But I find that it helps drown out the silence sometimes," she forlornly smiles as she looks down at the Arjuna bark.

She misses the way Ace looks back down at the leaflet in his hand, fiddling with it for no apparent reason.

"How old are you, anyways?" Ace asks out of the blue after several minutes of complete silence.

"Huh?" She says not too intelligently. She'd been caught off guard that the older boy had even bothered to start up the conversation, so forgive her if her wits have momentarily vanished. "Oh, I'm two," she answers with a small smile as she watches his reaction.

His eyes bulge out to the size of dinner platters—just like Poppy's, she thinks with a fond smile. "TWO?!" He splutters out in a loud voice. "You're _lying_! I'm only five but you already…" He mumbles out the rest of his words.

She tilts her head. "But I already…?" She trails off as she catalogues the fact that Ace is five years old. "I'm sorry, but I didn't quite catch that."

Ace's cheeks flush a light shade of red, and she can't help but be drawn to his adorable freckles. "But you already know so much," he confesses, childishly puffing his cheeks out, and oh god he's _pouting_. Ace is _pouting_.

 _You're unfairly adorable and I just want to hide you underneath a big old rock so that no one can hurt you_ , is what she refrains from saying. "Oh," she says, sounding just as surprised as she feels. A smile curls her lips, and she can't help but be a _little_ mischievous. "Well, I'm an old soul, after all," she jokes even though it is hilariously true. Hmmm. That sounded like a ridiculously good epithet. Old Soul Luffy, huh? "But I only know these things because I read a lot. But put me in a fight and you'll see that I'm as good as a headless chicken," she laughs as she remembers her fight against the humongous tiger.

She is an _incompetent_ fighter, and she needs to change that.

"You don't know how to fight?" Ace asks her with wide eyes. "How did you get here then? You should be dead by now!" He exclaims.

She winces. "A bit of luck, I guess?" She muses. "But Dogra found me earlier this morning and led me here to help Magra," she explains to him.

"And you were alone this whole time?" Ace continues asks her.

"Not really," she denies. "I had Mamoru with me. He's a monkey who saved me a few days ago from being eaten alive by a snake," she informs him.

"A monkey," Ace states with blank features.

"Yes," she confirms with a nod.

" _Just_ a monkey?" He asks incredulously.

"Well, he has a bit of a," she struggles to find the child-friendly synonym for breathplay kink. "An addiction to squeezing the life out of poor animals who gets in his way. But he's still a monkey."

Ace stares at her, a look of absolute mystification stretched upon his features, or maybe he's just wearing his 'I-think-you're-a-reckless-idiot' look. "You. Don't you have anybody to look out for you?" He asks.

"Oh, I do," she answers as she smiles fondly at the memories of her times spent with her babysitters. "All the adults in my village practically raised me as their own."

"What about your parents?" Ace asks suddenly and that— _that_ , she's not prepared for.

At that particular question, she averts her gaze from his own and finds that the hole in the floor is much more interesting than the boy in front of her. "That's a hard question," she admits as she drags her tongue across her lower lip, suddenly at a loss for any other words.

The memories she has of her parents stay as fresh on her mind as if it'd only been yesterday since she'd seen them; contrary to the agonizingly long fourteen months she's spent separated from them.

The brilliance of her mother's bright eyes and her father's broad grin have been and always will be imprinted in her mind like some kind of branding mark that can never be surgically removed.

Just like the memories of how she'd died.

"Are they dead?" Ace blurts out, bluntly and insensitively.

She flinches at his unkind words. "You don't ask people that," she scolds him in a weak voice, and she mentally applauds herself for managing to find it in herself to correct his lack of manners.

Ace doesn't apologize—she doesn't expect him to—but he _does_ look shamefully down on the ground, and it's enough for her that at least he knows that what he'd done hadn't been appropriate.

Nevertheless, she answers question because it feels _wrong_ not to divulge any kind of information about herself when she knows so much about him. "I don't know about my mother, but I at least know my father's alive," she tells him, her voice hollow. "I haven't seen him since he gave me away when I was really young though," she adds, feeling her chest tighten as she remembers just how _much_ she missesboth of her parents.

" _He gave you away_?" Ace asks her, and though the question is a tad bit insensitive she can't find it in herself to scold him because of the look on his face that expresses his opinion on the topic.

It seems like Ace's hatred for incompetent fathers extends past his own biological one.

"He _had_ to," she corrects. "He gave me away to protect me, because there were people after him and they would have…" She trails off, hoping that Ace understood the gist of it.

"They would have you hunted down," Ace finishes, and his eyes are just so _wide_ as his skin tone becomes a few shades lighter.

She exhales deeply and nods curtly, too wordless and timid to say anything regarding the topic.

And then, just when she's thought that they're finally done with the hard questions, Ace brings out the question that she knows all too well from keeping up with the series.

"Do you know Gol D. Roger?" He asks her, his eyebrows furrowed deeply and his lips set into a thin, firm line.

He looks determined.

And she realizes that he's determined to know _her_ opinion about his father, and most likely what she has to say about _him_ —the supposed devil's spawn.

She stares at him for good long while, watches him stare back at her with twice more intensity, and nods her head. "I know he's the Pirate King," she answers, and she knows her answer displeases him when his lips curve downwards at the typical description of his biological father. "But, from what I've gathered, he was a man worth admiration," she tells Ace slowly, gauging his reaction. His frown lets up, but he doesn't smile; instead, he continues to stare intensely at her. "I'd hear stories about him. Some were bad, while others were good, but I never believed anything that'd come out of those who didn't know the King himself," she continues, recalling from one of her One Piece binges how people who were and weren't close to the Pirate King viewed him. "Those who were close to Roger said that he was fearless and loyal to those he called his. That he would never run away from a single battle. That he was greedy, but not for wealth, fame, or power, would you believe it? He was greedy for _freedom_ ," she laughs, missing the way Ace frowns a bit, thinking that she was mocking his father, when in fact she felt a little hysterical at the mere mention of what she'd been lacking in her old life. " _Freedom_. Such an intangible thing that hardly anybody notices because they're so use to their lives that they don't know what's _wrong_ with theirs and everybody else's," she spits bitterly, suddenly spiteful, but she can hardly blame herself when she remembers the feeling of being _suffocated_ from ideals that others would force onto her in her old life.

She grips the edge of the table as she closes her eyes. She counts to seven as she breathes in deeply, and counts another seven as she exhales deeply.

When she's calmed down, she continues on. "And that's why I admire him," she confesses in a soft voice. "Because he sought after what was so lacking in this world. Roger sought after _freedom_ , and became its symbol. He… Gol D. Roger was an amazing man, and that's all I can say," she says.

And it's a lie. It's a big, fat, fucking lie because she has _more_ — _more_ to tell Ace about his father. How Roger had been dying on that execution stand yet still managed to turn that small, flickering flame left inside of him into a blaze that managed to envelope the entire world and set ships sailing far and wide throughout the seas and made people dream once more. How Roger had thought about him whilst he'd been imprisoned, knowing deep inside that he'd die before he'd ever get to see or hold his son.

About _Rouge_ , his mother, and her unconditional love for him that eventually brought her to her deathbed.

But Ace doesn't look like he wants to hear more; in fact, it looks like he can hardly process her words—words that talked of his father in a _good_ light for what was probably the first time.

"And if he had a child? Do you think it deserves to live?" Ace asks her in a quiet, nearly silent voice, and his shoulders tremble from how tense he's been clipping his arms to his sides.

Her gaze softens, and, unsurely, she reaches out for him.

Ace flinches away from her touch, and when he looks up, his gaze is nothing short of all the pent up rage and utter _hurt_ that has been storing up inside of him after every single insult he's heard about him and his father.

And that makes her so _sad_ and _angry_ at what this young boy had to go through.

She meets his eyes, a fiery determination inside of her, and when her mouth opens, she lets all of the words that she wants to say to him _out_.

"Everybody deserves to live," she says, and she sounds like she's ready to declare _war_ against anybody who says otherwise. "If the Pirate King had a child, then _he_ has as much as right as anybody else does to live! Nobody has the right to say that child deserves death, because unless that child has done _anything_ that Pirate King is supposedly famed for, then they have no _right_ to label an innocent child for the crimes of his parent!" She proclaims firmly, strongly, and never once avoiding his gaze to make sure that he understands that _it's not his fault_.

Ace holds her gaze for a moment that feels like infinity itself before he breaks it and looks off to the side.

"You think so?" It's soft and barely audible, but she hears it loud and clear.

Even as he flinches away from her touch once more, she's adamant in grasping his shoulders so that they're completely face to face and his gaze alarmingly shoots back to meet her own.

"Everybody who thinks a kid deserves to die is stupid," she says bluntly, in case he needed it hammered into his head. "And people who actually say that are twice as stupid and are just plain rude and deserve a good beating to the head."

Her heart flutters with joy when she sees Ace crack his first smile of the night, and she feels that she has finally done something _good_ in this life.

 **L.I.N.E.**

 **AN:** Hello, guys! :D How are you all liking Strikehedonia so far? Another ripple has been caused so far, but it won't just be the only one, I assure of you I'm sure many of you have questions, and I'm happy to answer them all hehe. All of the support you guys have given me are well-appreciated and I hope these chapters return the appreciation just as well.

 **Have you misspelled your title? Isn't it supposed to be Strikhedonia?**

Ahahahahaha. U-Um, w-well, it, erm.

Uhuhuhu. It _is_ misspelled uhuhuhu. I am super ashamed and embarrassed, that even the _title_ of my story is spelled wrong huhuhu. I was planning on discretely changing it when this question came up, but I'd rather be honest and let you guys know about the title-change because of my incompetence. :D Forgive me, loves.

 **Luffy with a different Devil Fruit or no Devil Fruit?**

Hmmm, I'm not exactly sure if whether or not I'd like to stick to canon because, well, I've already wrecked just a _few_ things (don't worry, I'm gonna wreck some more mwahahahaha) so why don't I just fuck this tidbit up as well? But meh, you guys will see on the fated day Luffy will either decide to eat her fruit or not what will happen, mwahahaha.

 **Wrong spelling of minor OCs?**

Ahahahahahahahahahahahaha. Oh my gosh, thank goodness somebody _finally_ noticed that! But nah, their names haven't been spelled wrong lol. Souka and Sokka are brothers, the former being a carpenter and the latter being one of Miss Makino's suitors heeehee; Sheila is the owner of the village's bakery, whilst Sheryn is the town doctor's wife lolz. Sooo many OCs, I know.

Now that the questions are over, I'm _really_ relieved that I'm finally getting somewhere with S!Luffy's character development because man was it hard to just act with a ball of anxiety who keeps questioning every movement lol. On another note, how did you all like this confrontation with Ace, huh? I think it was a bit too much of rushed interaction, but hey the kid's five years old—so he's more open and more curious than the ten-year old Ace we all go d'awwww over—and our Luffy knows how to get things done like a fucking boss.

One another note, have any of you seen Sanji lately? Poor snoockums needs some TLC with all the angst and BS going on around him.

And, most importantly, **HAPPY BIRTHDAY LUFFY!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** "I am not the liable owner or creator of One Piece. I am but a mere humble fan fiction writer."

 **L.I.N.E.**

 _She's always told herself that she never really liked being a doctor_ — _that the only reason she even became one in the first place was to appease her parents' nagging for her to decide what she would do with her life._

 _She's a liar_ — _she's always known that. She's lied to those she hates, to those she barely knows, and to those she even loves._

 _She's even lied to herself, and she wonders how long has she been trying to keep up such a tirade._

 _It's unhealthy, it's sick, it's_ wrong _._

 _(_ She is the anomaly in a world that has never been hers. That black smudge of ink on paper that disrupts **everything**.)

 _It has never been the outcome that she's hated, but the_ process _itself that has been the cause of her suffering and difficulty to break down the divide that has suddenly sprung up and thickened over the years between herself and those she called peers and family and friends._

 _Medicine had been hard, that she can admit, and medical school had been just as difficult if not more so._

 _They hand you a multitude of information_ — _Anatomy, Biochemistry, Bioethics, Cell Biology, Embryology, Epidemiology, Genetics, Hematology, Histology, Microbiology, Neuroscience, Physiology, Public Health, Oncology, Osteopathic Manual Medicine, Osteopathic Manual Treatment, Physiology, Clinical Medicine, Geriatrics, Pathology, Pharmacology, Pediatrics, Physical Diagnosis, Psychiatry, and dear God don't even get her started with those fucking Clerkships! Two months worth rotations each for Family Medicine, Geriatric, Internal Medicine, OB/GYN, Pediatric, Psychiatry, and Surgery. Ugh_ — _and they expect you to have it all perfectly memorized and mastered in such little, little time and if you can't manage it all then you'll either be told to improve or to quit early on._

 _It also didn't help that the system itself encouraged an unhealthy amount of competition, which would stay even after graduation, causing several arguments between physicians over whose method was better and more ideal for treatment._

 _Frankly, it was just like High School all over again, only difference was that everybody was much more intelligent, the backstabbing was much more subtle, and the grading system was objective and full of BS._

 _But if there was any good trait that she had in herself, it was that she was persistent, and that persistency of hers had helped her claw her way out from the very bottom of the system to passing the bar exam with top marks._

 _Sure her love life and social life had suffered from it, but hey, she never really had a stable one in the first place and her family life hadn't been as tense or suffocating as it once was so all was well and good in her world._

 _Besides, although her relationship with her coworkers were strained at best, she had honestly enjoyed her job as a physician what with the adorable children she'd gotten to meet and play around with, the elderly who were fond of gifting her a few luxurious items, and the occasional asshole who thought that they knew more than her and she was pushed to call security for to get them the hell out of her office when they got a little bit too violent with their words._

 _And she'd been tired, which isn't really anything new._

 _She's always been tired. From staying up late at night because of either her never ending studies or surgical duties or maybe the occasional fan fiction slash good erotica, to the problems in her life and when the fuck will her neighbor's dog stop being so fucking territorial so that she can finally get a fucking pet of her own to mope around with._

 _She has always, always been tired._

 _(Tired of being such a utter disappointment in herself, most of all)_

 _And she wants to be_ free _. She wants to think freely, talk freely, and act freely without having to worry about the consequences._

 _And she_ can _, she knows that._

 _Why else would she be given another life, if not for a second chance?_

 _(If not to right out the wrong in this world? If not to create chaos in a seemingly orderly world? If not to_ live _before she starts_ dying _once more?)_

 _So she tells herself in that large shack of a house._

" _I love being a doctor."_

 _After a moment,_

"… _I miss being a doctor."_

Baby steps _, she tells herself, because if she can be honest with Ace then she can be honest with herself too._

Live free _, she adds._

 _ **No more lies**_.

(Just silence and carefully worded responses from now on. Honest.)

 **L.I.N.E.**

The sun rises beautifully above the treetops from where she's gazing dreamily at from the window.

There are dark bags underneath her eyes; correction, she's more of staring blankly at whatever space there is than gazing dreamily like some kind of princess locked up in a high tower.

She hasn't gotten a wink of sleep last night. Having gotten too adrenalized with her meeting with Ace, her head has been wracked full of scenarios of the future she might have just done and fucked up—but hey, no use crying over spilt milk, right?—so she's been too plagued with horrible wonderings to even close her eyes and succumb to sweet, peaceful sleep.

The only good thing that has come from her not getting any sleep is that she's managed to properly prepare all of her herbs, reduced some into their powdered substances, and crammed all of them into their own special bottle and stuffed them into her bag.

She notices for the umpteenth time that the sun's rays reflect off of the mirror in a corner adjacent to the window, but she doesn't dare turn around to see what she looks like.

She can already guess what kind of smelly, haggard monster she looks like right now—holes in her clothes, hair unbrushed, and blood stains that have stubbornly stayed on even after having dealt with the furious scrubbing of her thumb and saliva.

It's a good thing that she smells like several different herbs, 'lest she had already tossed herself into a nearby creek from the ungodly, natural smell that must be coming from her.

She sighs, wondering where on earth could Mamoru be. Her companion hasn't once dropped by since he'd left, and she wonders if he'd gone back to his little family once he'd deemed it safe enough to leave her here with her 'kind.'

She snorts, because with the way he'd been eyeing Dogra, she doubts the monkey holds any kind of good will to the midget bandit.

The sound of a door slamming shut loudly breaks her out of her inane musings. Judging by the tremors she'd felt from the wood underneath her arms, she guesses with a high probability that it must have been the front door that has probably earned another crack in its body.

Curious, she peers down and sees a small figure with a mop of black hair swaggering (wow. Just where the hell did this kid get his mojo) towards the forest with a pipe at least twice his height in his hand.

It is undoubtedly Ace of the infamous freckled cheeks.

She rests her cheek in the palm of her hand as she gazes forlornly at the older ( _younger_ ) child. She hopes that her words had been taken seriously by him, and that she hadn't completely weirded him out with her straightforwardness and too deep words.

Just as he's about to disappear for good into the forest, he stops.

She perks up, both of her eyebrows rising up, and she wonders what has captured his attention this time.

She watches as Ace turns around, lifts his chin, and meets her gaze with his own, and both of their eyes widen comically. For a short while, the both of them are stunned to see that they have the other's attention, and they stay frozen from where they are, not really knowing what to do.

Tentatively, she raises an arm and waves at him in greeting.

She can't determine what facial expression he's wearing this time—is it the passive aggressive one or the disapproving aggressive one—from her distance, but her spirits curl up into a miserable ball to sulk in a corner of her heart when all Ace does in response is to turn around and disappear into the thick bushes of the forest without so much as a peep.

Wow.

Just. Wow.

What. A fucking. _Prick_.

With her cheeks burning in embarrassment, she turns away from the window and decides that checking on Magra's condition would be much more beneficial than looking out the window.

"I'll beat some manners into that fucking stubborn ass next time I see him," she grumbles heatedly before she busies herself with replacing Magra's bandages with a fresh batch.

The door to the room creaks open, and she breathes out a sigh of relief when she turns around and sees that it's only Dogra with a plate of meat and a pitcher of fresh water.

"I bring breakfast!" Dogra grins roguishly as he slams the door shut with his foot.

"Finally," she replies playfully, rolling her eyes. "I thought I had to eat Magra to let you mountain bandits know how to feed your guests."

"Ehe, sorry, but ya see—" He pauses once his gaze lands on the empty dinner plate sitting in the center of the table. "…Didja eat already?" He asks her, looking bewildered.

"Not yet," she answers, shaking her head. "Oh, Ace brought me something to eat last night," she informs him, just in case he'd thought she was tricking him.

"Ace brought you something to eat last night," Dogra intones blandly, staring blankly at the plate then at her. "He brought you something to eat."

He sounds like he hardly believes the words coming out of his mouth.

Justifiably so, because even _she_ hardly believes that Ace of all people had brought her food too.

"Yeah, he did," she says, even as she thinks, _I know right, kid nearly gave me a heart attack_. "Most polite boy I've ever met," she remarks sarcastically.

Dogra grins. "You tell me," he laughs. "Though I'm not surprised he dropped by to check up on Magra. Out of all of us here, his favorite has always been Magra 'cause the bloke would always give his leftovers to the kid," he tells her, proving her guess that the only reason Ace even came to this room in the first place was because he had been worried about Magra.

What a cinnamon roll, that kid.

"He didn't have to bring me food though," she remarks, trying to sound casual, and she knows that she's failed when Dogra gives her the no bullshit look.

"Eh, maybe he was feeling nice," He shrugs as he sets down the plate of food on the table. "Ever since he became moody, nobody here knows what goes on in that demon's head these days."

She frowns a little at Dogra's nickname for Ace. "Don't call him that," she lightly rebukes him.

"What? Demon? Hah! You shoulda seen him when he was two and he nearly set the house on fire, that one," Dogra laughs, and there's nothing but fondness in his voice. "That little kid's a demon, believe me."

Her frown deepens a little at Dogra's insistence and insensitiveness to Ace, but she can hardly blame him—does the mountain bandit even know that Ace knows of his heritage? That he can hear all those whispers behind his back of his 'demonic lineage?' Does he even know how _aware_ Ace is for a five year old child?—so she gives him a tired glare before focusing on food.

Because food is good.

And food is _food_.

And like any Monkey raised right, she knows that food is not to be forsaken or ignored. She's already committed a grave sin for placing Ace before food last night, so it would be detrimental to her family's honor if she would violate their most sacred law once more.

She listens to him ramble as she devours her meal. She wishes they'd give her more—she's a growing girl after all, and the Monkey's infamous metabolism isn't something to be looked down upon—but she isn't hungry to the point of where her stomach is growling anymore and she isn't as gluttonous as her male counterpart so she is half-content with what lays in her stomach.

"Boss said yes," Dogra blurts out of the blue, and her brain immediately processes it for her to understand what he meant.

"Oh." Her first reaction is blank. "Oh!" She makes up for it by brightening up with the force of a million suns. "That's great! We can leave as soon as you guys are ready!" She beams happily at him, glad that she'd managed to make them see things her way, and mentally filing a reminder to herself to apologize to Dadan for her rudeness yesterday.

 **L.I.N.E.**

They don't leave that day.

In fact, noneof the mountain bandits _ever_ get ready.

Because trouble is here and it comes in the form of only one being that is capable of sending a foreboding sense of dread into everybody's guts.

It comes in the horrendous form of _Monkey D. Garp_.

She had been browsing through the pages she'd ripped off of Cocoi's books, despairing over the vandalism she had wrought on such precious reading material, when she'd first heard the sign of trouble.

"LUUUUUFFFFYYYY!"

She looks up at the loud roar, wondering at first what kind of animal could produce such a sound. She folds the paper neatly lengthwise then crosswise before stuffing it into the pockets of her shorts with utmost care.

" _LUUUUUFFFFYYYY!"_

The roar resounds once more, this time sounding much louder than it had been before and managing to scare the avian out of their nests in the trees.

She watches as the flock of birds retreat to the sky, which is kind of stupid now that she sees how easily it would be to shoot at least one of them down, but hey, safety in numbers and all that jazz.

She belatedly realizes a moment later that the roar isn't an animal sound, but more like the roar _of her name_.

But by then, it's already too late.

" _ **LUUUUUFFFFYYYY!"**_

A resounding _crack!_ follows soon after the loud roar, which makes her ears ring in dull pain, and she feels something akin to dread settle coldly in her gut when another _crack!_ resounds but much more nearer to the bandits' hideout.

"Dear Lord," she gasps as she hurries over to the window, only to jerk back in surprise at what she sees. "Mother of—" she cuts herself short to instinctively duck down, a shiver of utter fear crawling through her veins at the mere gaze of her grandfather's meeting hers.

She understands four things.

Firstly, her Poppy is _here_.

Secondly, there is a clear wreck of trees that have either been uprooted or hacked off through their trunks right behind Poppy.

Thirdly, Poppy looks _pissed_.

And lastly, she is most definitely, undeniably _fucked_.

Despite all that, it still doesn't stop a grin from stretching her lips wide.

Because Poppy is _here_ after _months_ and there's no restraining the joy from bursting within her chest like fireworks on a beautiful Independence Day.

"G-G-Garp-san!" She hears the mountain bandits exclaim in unison, and when she musters the balls to peek over the window once more, she sees Dadan and Dogra practically cowering from her grandfather's powerful glower.

" **What,"** her grandfather snarls out angrily. "Is my granddaughter doing here?"

"G-Granddaughter?" Dadan stammers out. "Um, Garp-san, we don't know anythin' 'bout a granddaughter, but if you're askin' 'bout Ace then he's out hunting." It's obvious that she's nervous. She's sweating bullets and the provincial accent in her voice is prominent, a common quirk that most overseas workers back in her original world had tended to slip into when they were jittery.

"I wasn't asking about Ace," her grandfather snaps. "I was asking why my granddaughter is over there." He points a meaty finger at her. "When she should clearly be in Foosha Village."

As one, both Dadan and Dogra robotically turn to look up at her, and they gap when they see _only_ her.

Tentatively, she waves at them and smiles a sheepish smile.

Both pale dramatically and robotically turn to face Garp, who already has both of his arms crossed and is currently glaring down at them with the force of an elderly, high-ranked Marine as he.

"What do you scoundrels have to say for yourself before I arrest you?" Her grandfather barks.

"We didn't know she was your granddaughter!" Dogra cries out, before he cowers behind Dadan once he receives the full brunt of Garp's glare. "M-Magra got sick and all the docs in Goa are complete bastards, and I-I found her in the forest with a m-monkey, and she had this backpack full of herbs and stuff, so I asked if she could help and she said that she could so I brought her here," Dogra word-vomits it all out. Once he's done, he looks like he might _actually_ vomit what with how green his face is.

"…What." Garp looks a little bit shell-shocked.

And then, to make matters worse, Mamorubursts out from the treetops and lands solidly on the ground before all of them.

Dogra shrieks a little. "There! That's the monkey!" He's jabbing his index finger at the air to get his point across.

Her grandfather drags his attention to Mamoru, who immediately stills at the sight of the foreign human and looks about ready to pounce what with how his tail keeps swishing back and forth in whip-like motions.

She intervenes Mamoru could possibly get himself killed by her grandfather. "Mamoru, no!" She screams out, pushing her upper body past the windowsill to let her voice travel out much louder. It seems as though the physics in this world is willing to work properly for once because her tiny arms can't possibly hold up most of the weight of her body and gravity seems to have it bad for her once she realizes just a tad bit too late that she's already slipped _out_ of the window and is currently free falling to the ground.

Fortunately for her, she doesn't hit the ground as she'd fearfully expected to. Instead, her body lands safely into something familiarly large and warm that easily cocoons her tiny body and she doesn't have to open her eyes to know that it's her grandfather who's caught her.

She opens her eyes, takes a long look at her outraged expression, and beams brightly at her old man. "Poppy!" She exclaims, grinning from ear to ear, before she wraps her tiny arms around his thick neck and clings on for life. "I missed you!" She cries out, the sound of her heart beating loudly in her ears from having experienced _falling out of the goddamn window_.

Her grandfather's large palm easily cradles the back of her head, and she feels his heavy sigh blowing several strands of her hair. "Yeah, I missed you too," he murmurs as he strokes her head.

And, just like always, the mere presence of his arms wrapped around her is enough to uncoil all the tension in her little body that she hadn't been aware of until now.

She sighs softly into her grandfather's shoulder, feeling the blood coursing through her veins _sing_ with joy, and she fully closes her eyes, completely content.

However, just as she's about to slip off into La La Land, Garp unlatches her from him and holds her body up in the air for him to scrutinize.

She blinks drowsily a few times, the fog in her mind heavy, and she yawns sleepily.

"You have blood on your clothes," Garp notes, and his words vaguely register in her head.

She looks down at herself and sees that yes, there is blood on her clothes; most specifically, she has _tiger_ blood on her clothes.

"And you're injured too," her grandfather says as his gaze takes in every bruise, scratch, cut and gash visible on her.

She winces at that, knowing that her adventure in that horrid jungle has cost her several wounds that would probably take weeks to heal. She's just lucky she hadn't broken any bone, or else she'd have probably been mauled to death early on.

"And you're not in Foosha," Garp states the obvious, and she flinches at the accusation in his voice. "What are you doing here, Luffy?" He asks, his voice even and calm, but his eyes are a different story and showcase an inferno blazing wildly.

"I…" It's the only thing that comes out of her mouth, and she snaps her mouth shut, promptly mollified and terrified out of her wits. She gazes mournfully at the ground instead, feeling the telltale pricks of tears behind her eyes, and keeps dutifully silent.

She feels Garp's heavy gaze boring holes into her head, and she practically feels the disappointment rolling off of him in waves.

"Fine," Garp huffs. "If you don't want to talk, then I might as well bring you back to Foosha now!" He snaps, irritation evident in his voice.

She feels panic flicker weakly in her chest before it ignites and courses through her entire being like some kind of fast-acting poison. "NO!" She cries out. And she's not struggling in Garp's iron grip for herself—she's struggling for the man suffering on the bed upstairs; if she doesn't do something now, then she might as well sign off Magra as fucked and dead. "We can't! Magra's sick, and if we don't bring him to Foosha then he might die!"

"Are you hearing what you're saying, Luffy?!" Garp yells at her, and she freezes because—

—Because he has _never_ yelled at her.

"Do you know how much trouble you've caused for all the villagers in Foosha Village?!" He demands. "Running away in the middle of the night to what? Play hero?! Especially when Melissa's sick, and everyone else is already struggling to do what they can for her?!" The grip he has on her harm isn't painful, not in the slightest, but it's the way his hands vibrate against her that tells her he's restraining himself from actually hurting her. "You're a _kid_ , Luffy! A kid! If you think this is all a game, then you're wrong because you could have died in here, and I wouldn't have even known if Woop Slap hadn't called me and told me that you were just _gone_!" He bellows out loudly. "And now you want to bring a bring back a bandit 'cause you think a little flu's going to kill him?!"

Something goes _snap_ inside of her, and she just _loses it_. "Kid, kid, _kid_ , _KID!_ That's all you ever think I am!" She screams, beating wildly against his fists, completely _outraged_ at Garp. "You think that I don't know this isn't all a game?! You think that I'm just playing hero for fun?! You think that I don't know that Mistress Melissa isn't going to _die_?! I'm not _stupid_. I know what I'm doing!" She shrieks, resorting to digging her fingernails into Garp's fist and _raking_ it down. "Melissa-obaa is going to die if I don't give her the herbs she'll need! Magra is going to die if I don't give him the proper medication! Don't tell me I don't know what I'm doing when I've read and read and _read and know exactly what I'm doing!_ "

She doesn't realize she's been crying hysterically until she feels herself being placed on a flat surface so that the big, meaty hands that had been firmly holding her are now wiping away the tears streaming down her cheeks.

A watery hiccup slips past her lips. "I-I don't even want to be a hero," she sobs out. "I-I didn't even want to leave home, but I had to because I knew h-how to help Melissa-obaa and if I couldn't help her then _who would?_ " Her voice cracks towards the end, and it's not a pretty sound at all.

"Stupid girl," Garp huffs, but his voice is softer and much gentler compared to the furious one he'd used a while ago, and her brain instinctively switches his designation to _grandfather_. "Cocoi's a doctor and he knows what he's doing," he tells her as he wipes the tears from her cheeks with his meaty thumbs.

She adamantly shakes her head, breathing in deeply a few times to recompose herself. "No, Poppy, he doesn't," she denies. "Everybody keeps on saying that there's something wrong with Melissa-obaa's lungs, but they're wrong," she insists. "It's her heart that's wrong. Her _heart_."

Her grandfather doesn't look like he believes her one bit. "Now, Luffy, you can't possibly know that," he says, and it _breaks her because she_ _ **does**_ _!_

"I've read about it," she stubbornly persists, reigning in her temper because it'd just be a waste of time and angry tears to have _another_ tantrum, before she's pulling out the pages she'd ripped off of Cocoi's books and rattling on about the symptoms she'd noticed and pointing out all the herbs she'd collected to help relieve the mistress of Party's Bar's pain.

When she's finally said her part, she determinedly meets her grandfather's gaze. "I know what I'm doing," she states with firm resolution, and the feeling of something _powerful_ coils tight just right next to her heart, and it coils and coils and coils until it stops, practically vibrating in anticipation.

She expects the feeling to explode any minute now; only, disappointingly, it deflates like a popped air balloon, leaving only emptiness in its wake.

Distractedly, she looks at her chest and puts a hand over it, caressing the sudden ache that had popped out of nowhere.

What…What just happened?

She puzzles over the sudden sensation for a few more moments before the sound of her grandfather's heavy sigh catches her attention once more.

And her grandfather…looks _tired_. For once in his life, he looks like he's actually the sixty one year old that he is, and she wonders what has made him look as if the weight of the world had fallen atop his shoulders.

"I'll tell my crew's doctor to come check up on the bandit," her grandfather passes judgement, and her eyes widen at his surprising kindness and generosity after she'd thrown such a fit. "In exchange, you come back home with me to Foosha Village.

Ah, so he's bartering with her. It takes her a _full minute_ of staring at him in stunned surprise, because she hadn't expected him to think so cleverly, before her brain can actually process his words. There's nothing wrong with his offer—in fact, it weighs more towards her side in terms of advantages, and she'd be a fool to not accept.

She looks back at Dogra and Dadan, who had fearfully retreated into the safe premises of the house and are now peeking at them from the first-floor windows, and she steels herself before looking up at her grandfather. "Promise they'll help Magra?" She asks, and it's the _only_ thing she's ever asked of him besides extending his vacation a little longer so that they have just a little more time together, and sending shitty, photocopied letters to her.

She doesn't ask a lot from him, because she's tired of having her expectations for _anybody_ be such a disappointment to her when they can't live up to it.

( _He can't return her father, after all)_

"Yes," he answers.

And that is enough for her.

"Okay."

 **L.I.N.E.**

Mamoru clings to her back with his tail wrapped protectively around her upper arm. He's been shooting dagger looks at her grandfather for a while as they walk down a rough trail leading back to Foosha Village, and he's been prone to baring his sharp canines at the elder Marine.

She is too appalled with herself to admonish her partner.

"Aiiiiieeee," Mamoru screeches lowly, threateningly, as he peers up at Garp from behind her head.

She flicks her gaze to him, and presses her lips together as she does her best to give him _the look_ to get him to stop.

Mamoru merely eyes her as if _she's_ the crazy one.

"Nice friend you've got there," her grandfather remarks. He's been making small talk since they've left the mountain bandit's hideout, and her silence doesn't discourage him in the least; instead, he just keeps on talking. "I remember this baby tiger I used to lug around when I was your age. We'd go hunt together everyday and go on adventures."

Was she supposed to reply to that? It sounded like she should, but she doesn't _really_ want to say anything to him. She'd rather let herself wallow in shame at her tantrum for a bit longer because that hadn't been mature of her, which she _should_ have been.

But _noooo_ , instead, she had chosen the path of pettiness because she'd panicked and decided that screaming her head off would be the better route than talking things out like civilized adults would have done.

Something large and heavy patting her head snaps her out of her thoughts, but it disappears soon enough when she hears Mamoru hiss out angrily.

"Feisty too," Garp adds, shooting her a bright grin

Her chest tightens painfully, and she stops walking, which makes Garp stop walking as well. He ignores the befuddled look on his face as she stares up at him; not for the first time in this life, she considers how lucky she is to have a grandfather as, well, not exactly _uncaring_ per say since she knows he does care for her, but maybe extremely lenient?

( _In her first life she would have gotten the cold shoulder for days after a harsh scolding that usually brought out the hanger if she'd ever thrown a fit like that_ )

And she feels herself tear up at how self-centered and tactless she'd been.

Moving closer to him so that she is capable of wrapping as much as her little arms can around his thick leg, she squeezes him tightly and grumbles out regretfully, "I'm sorry, Poppy."

Her grandfather laughs and pats her on the head, uncaring of Mamoru's hiss and the daring swipe to his hand. "I forgive you," he tells her. "But you should apologize to your Makino-nee and that Woop Slap too. Your disappearance made them go crackers," he added.

…Crackers? Was that old people speak for something?

"Just don't go running off like that again, okay?" He asks of her.

She puffs her cheeks. "I left a note," she insists, but shrinks into herself when Garp's eyes narrow.

"And it's the worst note I've ever read," he snorts. "Look, Luffy. You went into Mt. Colubo without any fighting experience and that was wrong of you because you could've died," he scolds her. "You're lucky you only got out with some wounds."

"But I wanted to help Melissa," she murmurs.

"Yeah, well, Melissa would have wanted you alive more," he retorts, and she fruitlessly wilts at the truth. "Now come on. We're wasting daylight here and the faster we get back to Foosha, the faster you can get a bath."

Eventually, they stumble out of the famous Mt. Colubo, and she's forced to say goodbye to Mamoru who'd stubbornly clung to a tree as if being separated from the jungle itself had physically pained him.

"I'll come back," she promises as she caresses his head. "I'll come back and look for you, so just wait for me, okay?"

"Oooohhh," Mamoru whimpers, his tail tightening around her arm for a brief moment before it reluctantly uncurls and retreats back to his side. He looks into her eyes, trying one more time to persuade her to stay, before he gives up upon seeing the large human lift the little girl into his arms.

He bares his teeth at Garp one last time before he swiftly turns around and climbs up the tree to the safety of the treetops.

Saying goodbye hurts the most, but it has to be done. "Bye bye, Mamoru!" she calls out as her grandfather brings her away from the forest, waving for as long as the tree her friend had hidden within is visible to her.

 **L.I.N.E.**

"You are _never_ going out again," Makino swears passionately as she squeezes her tightly to the point of pain. "I will strap you down to my chest if I have to so that you will never have to go anywhere again," the barmaid vows with a hoarse voice as she buries her face into Luffy's greasy hair.

"I'm sorry, Makino-nee," she whimpers as she grasps onto the back of Makino's clothes as strongly as she can. "I won't do it again. I promise," she says through the tears streaming down her cheeks for the second time that day.

"You better," Makino sniffs, pulling away and revealing her tear-stained face. "You had me and everyone else so worried, Luffy! We thought you'd been kidnapped!" She exclaims. "Do you know what I felt like when I found out that you were _gone_? I-I was so scared, because something could have happened to you and I couldn't be there to protect you! So don't you every do that again, you hear me?!" She half-demands, half-sobs before she's pulling her back into her chest for another breathless hug.

"I won't do it again, Makino-nee!" She cries back.

After a while, when Makino has been sated with having had her to herself for a whole ten minutes, the barmaid reluctantly allows the young girl to be spirited off away for the other villagers to fret over and hug.

"You had us all worried, Luffy! We searched everywhere for you, but you weren't there!"

"We thought we'd never get you back!"

"Are you alright, dear? You're covered in wounds!"

"I'm just glad that you came back to us!"

"Did you even eat out there?! Hey! Somebody get her something to eat! She might have not eaten anything in a week!"

"Don't go running of like that again, okay?! You gave your poor Makino-nee and Woop Slap-ojii heart attacks!"

And it is _all just too much for her_.

Because what has she ever done in any of her lives to deserve such—such _love_ and _affection?_ It fills herself up in the best and worst ways possible, something that alcohol _could never_ be compared to, and it leaves her in a cocoon of warmth and completeness, and of a kind of guilt that eats away at her insides for making everyone cry despite their large smiles.

"Everyone," she hiccups wetly, biting down on her bottom lip as she tearfully looks up at everyone who had been _waiting_ for her to return, and trying her very best to bottle up the powerful emotions raging inside of her. "I-I'M SO SORRY!" She wails, sobs, cries, howls, _screams_ and everything comes out of her through those three words.

"Stupid brat!" Woop Slap yells, hitting her none too gently at the back of her head with his blunt cane. "Just don't do that again, you hear me? I'm too old for these kinds of shenanigans. And what I tell the rest of you folks? A Monkey is always a Monkey!" He complains, throwing his arms up.

And everybody guffaws at Woop Slap who smirks.

But Luffy's having none of that. "I'm sorry, jiji," she hiccups as she clings to Woop Slap's pants.

Woop Slap looks down at her, gives her the stink eye, fails after a minute, and proceeds to promptly muss her hair up even more. "You were supposed to be the quiet one," he sighs, as if the world had just lost something to stabilize it.

When he slips her a piece of hard candy, she knows she's forgiven and squeezes his leg one more time before making her way to the rest of the villagers to apologize.

Saving the best for last, she walks over to Cocoi and Sheryn where they're seated by the bar. As butterflies fly around in her stomach, she notices that Sheryn has her hand over her bloated stomach with a look of discomfort on her face.

"You're never knocking me up again," Sheryn complains. "I'm serious. I miss seeing my feet again," she says as she glowers darkly at her laughing husband.

"Well your due date's next week, so you'll be able to see them soon enough," Cocoi beams brightly, making his wife sigh in exasperation.

She, on the other hand, wonders if Sheryn's going to give birth to twins, maybe triplets, because she looks like her womb is housing more than just a single baby.

"Cocoi-oji, Sheryn-nee," she calls, catching the young couple's attentions.

As Cocoi points at himself and mouths 'Cocoi-oji' with a shattered look on his face, Sheryn smiles warmly at her. "Hi there, Luffy," she greets, before her smile turns sinister. "You had me worried when I found out you just up and left! Don't you ever do that again, okay? I had a hard time sleeping 'cause I kept thinking what had happened to you," the young woman scolds her, reaching down to pinch her cheek with a strong grip.

"O-O-Owwww," she moans. "S-Sheryn-nee, stoop!" She whines.

"Just don't do it again, okay?" Sheryn threatens, letting go. "I can't have my kid's older sister in trouble."

Her eyes pop wide open, and she looks up at Sheryn in astonishment. "O-Older sister?" She stammers out, voice pitching high towards the end, and Sheryn nods as if she hadn't just broken some _big_ news.

"Of course!" Sheryn huffs. "You're practically my kid already! And you'd make a good big sister, I'm sure. Call it a woman's intuition," the young woman winks knowingly at her.

"I…" She's honestly speechless.

"You be good to them, okay?" Sheryn asks, smiling amiably. "Love them as much as I love you okay?" She giggles.

Feeling tears prick at the back of her eyes _for the third fucking time today_ , she nods determinedly. "I will!" She promises. "I'll be the best big sister ever!"

Sheryn just continues smiling brightly at her, but her dark eyes have certainly softened to a degree that expresses her affection for the little girl. "I'm sure you will," she replies wholeheartedly.

"Aw, you're blushing," Cocoi teases, pulling over to pinch her other cheek and making her blush even harder.

When Cocoi pulls his hand away before she could probably bite it, she remembers why she even came to them in the first place. "Ah, Cocoi-oji, I, um, stole something from you," she confesses, gaze straying to the ground in shame. "Here," she hands over the pages she'd stolen that had stayed folded up in her pockets.

"These are…" Cocoi trails off, eyes widening. "Are these my notes?" He asks, and his voice is strangely high-pitched as he stares in utter devastation at his work.

She winces. "Yes. I, um, ripped them off," she mumbles the last part. "But I'll put them back," she promises.

Cocoi doesn't reply, having transformed into a statue as he stares expressionlessly down at the pages.

"How will you do that?" Sheryn asks, amused.

"I can sew them back," she answers confidently.

"Do you even know how to sew?" Sheryn points out.

"…I'll ask Makino-nee to teach me, _then_ I'll sew them back," she vows. She'd seen her younger sister in her past life replace the springs in their notebooks with yarn, and she remembers some of the process, so with a little refresher with Makino she's sure she'll be able to accomplish the feat.

"Well you go do that while I take care of—" Sheryn stops talking then, and places a hand on her bulging stomach. "Hush, hush now. Kicking hurts mommy too, you know," the young woman murmurs sweetly, gently.

And then what sounds like a _POP!_ goes off, and Luffy freezes because this is all starting to resemble when her younger sister had gone _into fucking labor_.

"Oh my," Sheryn gasps after a while as she gets off of the stool that is now alarmingly wet. "Oh my God," she says. "Honey, I think my water broke," she shakes Cocoi who seems to have snapped out of his trance at the keywords.

"What?" Cocoi turns to her almost thoughtlessly, most likely going into shock.

She can't blame him. _She's_ going into shock.

"I said," Sheryn says calmly. "I think my water broke."

The bar has never felt any quieter as those five life-shattering words bounce off the walls of the bar.

Robotically, everybody turns to Sheryn who has already crossed her arms and is now impatiently tapping her foot.

Chaos descends soon enough when the only doctor in the village falls to a dead faint.

 **L.I.N.E.**

As the adults fret over the young woman in labor, Garp herds her over to the second floor and she manages to find it in herself to stubbornly stick to the ground right in front of Melissa's door.

"She knows," Garp says simply, making her heart plummet down to her gut.

Balling her hands into tiny fists, she stares straight at the door.

"Go," Garp prods with his foot, but it's enough to send her toppling forward and smacking face first into the door.

And, as if common sense doesn't exist in the face of anime logic, the door _miraculously_ opens despite there being a door knob that has to be twisted first.

She lands sprawled on the ground and her face flushes in embarrassment at her grandfather's laughter in the background.

"So noisy!" Melissa complains from where she's seated up on her bed, her voice worryingly hoarse. "And reacting so barbarically when a little lady falls! I should beat you black and blue if I could only get up!" Melissa snarls, before she picks up the glass by her bedside table and promptly chucks it at Garp.

Amazingly enough, her grandfather catches the glass without even having to fucking look at it.

"And you, you little brat," Melissa addresses her with a snippy voice. "Just what are you doing on the ground? Get up, get up! Girls don't belong on the floor!"

"Y-Yes, mistress," She obeys as she immediately gets off of the ground and pats any dirt that had accumulated on her clothes.

"Come here," Melissa beckons with a hand. "Let me see your face," the elderly woman orders, and she's quick to comply. Grasping Luffy's chin in her wrinkled hand, Melissa scrutinizes the state her youngest charge had landed herself into. "I heard you went off to get yourself dirty," Melissa mentions nonchalantly as if she's talking about the weather.

She cringes.

"Give us some privacy, Garp," Melissa asks for.

"Don't go breaking my granddaughter!" Garp calls out as he slams the door shut.

Melissa just smiles eerily as she looks down at her. "But I already did, ne?" Melissa asks, tilting her head in what would have been cute if she was half her age but just now looks _scary_.

"Yes," she answers, nodding dutifully. "I'm more of Melissa-obaa's granddaughter than crazy old Poppy," she recites perfectly, knowing what to say to appease the old woman.

Melissa grins, looking like the cat that had devoured the canary right after plucking its wings. "That's correct," she purrs. "Now, what's all this crap I've been hearing from Woop Slap about you running away and fixing things?" She asks, straight to the point.

She looks down at the ground and pettily kicks her foot. "I just wanted to help you…" She answers.

"By what? By getting yourself into trouble?" Melissa snaps. "Where on earth did you even run off to anyways? And raise your chin. Ladies aren't afraid of holding their heads high," she admonishes.

Reluctantly complying with Melissa's orders, she lifts her chin up and looks straight at Melissa's eyes. Her throat tightens. "I went to Mt. Colubo to get some herbs that Cocoi-oji didn't have in his clinic."

Melissa's eyes widen. "Mt. Colubo?" She utters, before her hands go everywhere on the young girl's body. "You're not hurt, are you?" She asks, and freezes when she finally takes heed of the blood on Luffy's clothes that she'd foolishly mistaken for as dried mud. "…Where did this blood come from, Luffy?" She asks, voice blank.

"A tiger," she answers after a hefty amount of silence.

"A tiger," Melissa intones blandly.

She nods wordlessly.

"Poseidon," the old woman breathes out. "You Monkeys and your fascination with anything that can kill you," she scowls. "And how did you get out of that mess, huh?" Melissa asks.

"Mamoru, a monkey I befriended, saved me," she answers, smiling fondly and a little sadly at the remembrance of the primate.

"First a tiger then a monkey. Don't tell me there's a snake in that story too," Melissa huffs out. At Luffy's silence, Melissa eyes the little girl suspiciously. "There's a snake, isn't there?" Melissa asks sourly.

"Yes. It tried to eat me, but Mamoru saved me from that too and I gave him food in exchange and he brought me to his little monkey tribe after that," She explains.

Melissa stares at her.

"You are never going out again," Melissa decides. " _Never_. And I'll chain you to my bed if I have to myself."

She smiles up at her guardian. "That's what Makino-nee told me too," she informs Melissa who sighs.

"Why did you even go there, Luffy? You could have gotten yourself killed."

"Because I wanted to help you, Melissa-obaa," she answers, reaching out to hold onto the elderly woman's sleeve because she doesn't have the courage to actually hold her hand. "I…I don't want you to leave yet," she admits, her gaze straying to the ground.

Melissa sighs a deeper sigh this time. "Oh, Luffy," she says, old and wise, as if she knows all the secrets to the world. "Come here," Melissa pats the spot on the bed beside her, and she complies willingly.

Melissa breathes in deeply, readying herself for the words that she has to impart. "Everybody has to go some day," she starts out softly. "And I know you've always been smart enough to understand this. That eventually, nature will take its toll on you or the devil itself finally decides that your luck has run out and you have to pay what you owe, and you'll have to pass on," she says wistfully. "And I'd rather pick an old woman like me who's already past her prime to kick the bucket than a two-year old girl who has yet to live her life yet."

"Don't say that," she protests with a wobbly voice.

"You have your whole life ahead of you, Luffy," Melissa says softly, caressing the little girl's cheek with fondness twinkling in her eyes. "So don't waste it for an old woman like me."

"But what if I want to?" She replies.

"Don't," Melissa snaps, voice as sharp as her eyes are, and she pulls her hand away. "I appreciate the gesture really, but," Melissa stops, then looks down at her wrinkled hands with tired eyes. "…I only regret not being able to live long enough to be there for you and Makino. I'd have liked to at least watch the both of you bloom," she admits remorsefully instead.

It takes her a minute for Melissa's words to settle in her head. "You _want_ to die," she says, accusation practically dripping from her tongue and she feels _betrayed_ and _hurt_ , but the emotions disappears soon enough when she realizes _why_. "You're tired," she voices out, and her chest tightens in sympathetic pain.

"I knew you've always been too smart for your own good," Melissa sighs, but the corners of her lips twitch upwards. "…Avant would have loved you and Makino," the old woman confesses, her eyes glossy with tears. "And I believe I've kept him waiting for far too long…"

Her throat tightens and she bites her bottom lip. Scooting closer to Melissa, she throws her arms as gently as she can around the old woman and gives her a big hug. "I love you," she says before she loses the chance to ever say it.

Despite her words being muffled into the old woman's stomach, Melisa understands it all the same. "I love you too," she shares, stroking her hair fondly.

 **L.I.N.E.**

She sits outside on the porch steps with heavy thoughts. A part of her brain is berating her for at least not telling Melissa the truth—about _her_ , about _everything_ —but the other part is telling her that she shouldn't because despite everything, she's still a scaredy cat deep down, and it also wouldn't be fair to push the burden upon her shoulders to somebody who's barely hanging onto the thread of life they have left.

She's really good at making excuses, she muses to herself as she finger combs her damp hair. The bath had been _amazing_ , and she's never loved brushing her teeth after a week of nothing but the taste of morning breath in her mouth.

Her attention is immediately captured by her grandfather walking up the hill to their small abode with an admittedly handsome brunette Marine walking alongside him. She watches with curious eyes as they both stop, exchanging several words that are too far to reach her ears, before the younger Marine salutes Garp sharply and turns on his heel to leave.

Garp easily spots her waiting. "Ah, Luffy!" He calls, grinning. "I've got good news for you. Apparently that bandit of Dadan's will survive," he informs her, and it feels as if some weight has been lifted off of her chest.

She smiles in relief. At least something good came out of today. "Will Sheryn-nee be okay?" She inquires to her grandfather. It's been over ten hours already, and the sun has already set _hours_ ago; usually, the birthing process would have been over by now unless there was a problem.

"Hm? Oh, the lass is still giving birth last I heard. But she's popping another one, so it's to be expected," he comments as if he was talking about the weather.

She pauses. "Another?" Could it be? Had her joking assessment been _correct?_

"Yeah. Apparently she's having twins. The first's a girl by the way, and isn't that great? You'll have a playmate now," Garp says.

Holy fuck, she thinks. Poor Sheryn. One baby was hard enough but _two?_ Twins were trickyto have, and it isn't uncommon for at least one of them not surviving.

"Don't worry your pretty little head, Luffy," Garp says, patting her head with enough strength to make her neck ache. "All women in Foosha are made of tougher material than others outside. Melissa made sure of that! BWAHAHAHAHA!" He bellows out a laugh.

She would have let out a laugh as well since her grandfather's joy is infectious, but she can't really find it in her to smile anymore at the mention of Melissa.

Noticing her low spirits, Garp's laughter ends in an awkward note. "What's wrong? You worried about Melissa? Heh! That old hag will push through like always, just you wait and see!"

Flicking her gaze upwards, she looks up at Garp, no hint of any hope on her face. She appreciates the gesture, but the lie Garp has woven to comfort her does the exact opposite. "She won't," she sighs out. "You don't have to lie to me, Poppy. I know what's going to happen to her," she tells her grandfather.

An awkward silence blankets the air above them, and she looks sadly down at the ground.

Her attention is brought back to her grandfather when she hears the wood from underneath groan in protest as he plops down right beside her. She has enough time to look up at him in confusion before she's suddenly being lifted by her armpits and brought close to a broad, muscular chest.

She squawks, "Hey!"

Garp silences her soon enough by placing a hand on the back of her head whilst his other arm is settled comfortably around her back to prevent her from escaping.

"Sometimes," her grandfather starts, voice gravelly and thick with emotion. "I wish you'd gotten your brains from me," he discloses to her. "Then maybe you wouldn't have to think like that."

She stiffens at his words, heart jumping into her throat, as _does know, does he know, does he know_ circles around her head like a headless chicken.

 _Breathe_ , she tells herself. _Breathe_.

"You know too much for your age," Garp murmurs. "And it worries me that you'll grow up too soon, like your father," he admits, grip on her tightening just a bit as if afraid she'll slip out and disappear on him.

At his words, her heart promptly dislodges itself from her throat and drops down to land in her stomach with a pitiful cracking sound. The stiffness in her muscles is now for an entirely different reason, and her throat constricts tightly at her grandfather's mention of her father.

He hasn't once mentioned Dragon since he'd brought her here.

"So stay a kid, even just for a little longer," Garp orders her, voice soft and not all that commanding, as he eases his grip on her so that she has enough space to look up at him.

What she sees breaks her heart.

She clenches his clothes with her tiny fists.

"I have your heart," she says instead, because she can't promise him anything—not when there's an elderly woman slowly rotting away in bed; not when there's a lonely, five-year old boy in Mt. Colubo; not when there're people who deserves better; not when there's an entire world out there that needs _fixing_.

Garp smiles wryly. "But your will is your will," he sighs, as if that changes _everything_.

His words are cryptic, but she doesn't let herself ponder over them as she lays her head upon his chest and listens to the rhythmic beat of his heart.

"I love you, Poppy."

"I love you too, Luffy."

 **L.I.N.E.**

Later on, when she's wrapped into a burrito with her blankets and listening to her grandfather snore loudly in between irritated mutters and jovial BWAHAHAHAs, it occurs to her.

Since her grandfather loves her then maybe—

—Just _maybe_ , he might have loved her father in a time now lost.

The very thought eludes her, but that's nothing new. Her mind's been boggled probably a thousand times since she'd died and woken up in the body of a newborn infant.

She slips back into sleep soon enough.

( _Or maybe he still does?_ )

 **L.I.N.E.**

Cocoi lifts her high enough for her to see the two babies nestled together like two peas in a pod within their shared crib. Both are swathed in white blankets with ducks on them, and the only way they can be told apart is from the color of the ducks.

"Marie's our eldest," Cocoi beams with fatherly pride at the little tyke wrapped in the blanket with pink ducks. "And Varric's our youngest," he coos softly at the one with blue ducks all over his blanket.

Like all newborn infants, the twins have the same scrunched up features, which makes them look like rosy-faced, humanoid pugs. If they hadn't been born as fraternal twins, then the newly-fledged parents would have most likely had a hard time distinguishing one from the other.

It's fortunate that the twins had survived; even more so that Sheryn had come out of it safe and sound after an eighteen-hour nap and a few stitches down there, considering that it had been her first pregnancy and all.

"They're cute," she comments, and she means it. If that crib had any space for her, she would have demanded to be placed in it to snooze next to her new siblings, but alas, the crib had only been made with one baby in mind and two was already quite a squeeze.

"They are, aren't they," Cocoi muses, reaching down with one hand to caress his daughter's head before doing the same to his son's cheek. "I'm glad they came out healthy," he sighs out in relief.

Be a child, be a child, be a child, she chants in her head. "When can they run?" She asks curiously.

Cocoi looks down at her with what seems like alarm. "Run? Oh, Luffy," he chides in a soft voice, and she swallows down whatever distaste she feels at being treated like a child. "They're barely a week old. They won't be running until they're three, unlike you, 'cause your craziness is just one of a kind," he snorts.

"Monkey," she says, as if it's the answer to everything so weird about her.

And it honestly is in a small, normal village like Foosha.

As Cocoi drones on about her being a good example to his children, she stares softly down at the snoozing infants.

She's been a big sister before; surely, she can actually be a good one this time around.

 **L.I.N.E.**

A week after Garp leaves to attend to his naval duties, Melissa finally finds her peace on a beautiful, windy afternoon.

Nobody knows _how_ exactly did she pass away—was it an attack that had burned her heart so painfully to the point that breathing had become an impossible feat? Or did she simply slip off into an eternal sleep without knowing it herself?—but nobody dwells on it, too lost in their own mourning.

Makino does not push her away to drown in her own sorrow and despair over such an unfortunate event as she'd done so before; instead, the young woman brings her close to her chest and weeps with all of her heart.

She too sheds tears—the kind that she'll never be ashamed of and will instead hold close to her heart for the sole reason that it had been for someone worth the pain—and sobs into Makino's blouse until she leaves it wet and covered in snot.

They don't cry prettily, but it doesn't matter because unlike sappy romance novels where every character has to be perfect, _theirs_ is raw and thick with true, human emotion.

After all, there is nothing more beautiful and hideous than humanity itself at its truest form.

"I won't leave you alone again," Makino whispers to her hair, pressing soft kisses every now and then, as if her very presence is a necessary comfort to the young woman. It most likely is, for Makino is her only anchor to reality right now as well. "We'll get through this together," Makino murmurs, requests, suggests, or maybe even promises because she's kind like that.

She nods wordlessly and clamps tight onto Makino's blouse.

 **L.I.N.E.**

Melissa's burial is held three days later, on a day as windy and beautiful as the one she'd passed away on.

Melissa is dressed in her finest robes, with her hair twisted into an ornate braid and whatever jewelry she owned draped across her. She looks so peaceful from within the cushions of the wooden coffin her physical body is doomed to stay in for the rest of time, as if she's merely taking one of her naps.

But everybody knows better than to assume so.

Every single resident of Foosha Village attends the funeral, each one dressed modestly in their dully-colored mourning clothes.

Neither prayers nor songs are sung for the deceased in their culture; instead, theirs is much simpler and more personal.

Once Melissa's coffin has been covered and laid down to rest within the deep hole made for it, Woop Slap steps forward with a bouquet of marigolds and blue periwinkles.

"Rest in peace, friend," are the only words he imparts before he tosses the bouquet into the hole.

And so the proceedings continue on as thus: with each one of them imparting their own final words to the elderly mistress of the bar and tossing their bouquets to the grave.

And she watches them all dutifully—watches the proof that Melissa had died _loved_ —with a cold type of numbness coursing through her veins.

When it's only her and Makino who are the only ones left, she untangles her fingers from Makino's and lets the young woman step forward.

Makino stands over the unburied grave, holding what is indubitably the most beautiful bouquet that has yet to be delivered to Melissa.

"Mistress…" Makino utters, voice the gentlest and most loving it has ever been. "You taught me everything I know, and even though you were harsh and mean and strict," she pauses to wipe a stray tear that had leaked from the corner of one of her eyes. "I can't thank you enough for _everything_ , because if it weren't for you, then I would probably have been even more helpless and clumsier than I am now," she laughs wetly. "You took me in when you could have left me alone, treated me with love when you could have easily abused me, and became my mother when you didn't have to." Makino swallows down the sob that threatens to creep up her throat. "And for all that, I will never forget you."

She tosses the bouquet of honeysuckles ( _proof of our love)_ , dahlias ( _my gratitude exceeds your care_ ), pink carnations( _you shall remain in my memories for eternity_ ), and wood sorrels ( _maternal tenderness_ ) into the pit.

Makino turns back, with her bottom lip clenched tightly in between her teeth, but she makes her way back with her head held high, looking every bit the strong woman Melissa had beaten into her.

She realizes she's ironically the only one left, and she makes her way to the forefront of Melissa's open grave underneath everyone's watchful eyes.

She licks her lips, swallows down the lump in her throat, and says, "I'm sorry." _For causing you trouble, for not being able to help you, and for keepings secrets from you even until you died_. "Thank you for everything, Melissa-obaa. For loving me. For loving Makino-nee. For loving everybody." _For choosing me over you, most of all._ "I hope that you've been able to find the peace you wanted." _Unlike me_.

She throws her bouquet of flaxes and Michaelmas daisies—unspoken words of the kindness she'd felt and the farewells that were forced—to join the rest and returns to Makino's side without so much as another peep.

She watches as the men start to fill in Melissa's grave, feeling even colder and emptier than before.

She and Makino stay past sunset, sitting down on the grass and cattails before Melissa's grave, and holding one another's hands as they stew in somber silence.

They only come home once the sun has set and the moon has risen.

Back home to a house that will never feel the same again.

 **L.I.N.E.**

 **AN:** Hi, sweethearts! It's been a while, but I'm proud of myself that I've been able to post this chapter in two weeks, and it's the longest one I've made for this story too! I believe celebrations are in order, ehehe, and I'll be taking my well-deserved twelve hour sleep 'cause my sleeping schedule's kinda gone out of order and I've become more of an aswang (it's like another species of vampire, I think? Look it up and give yourselves nightmares, folks) than an actual human being ahaha. Maaaan, this chapter has a lot of sudden angst, but I believe that it was kind of necessary since S!Luffy was stressed and needed to let it all out before it became too unhealthy (she's freakin' too guys, and she doesn't have the best of mental states HAHAHA) and I just really wanted a scene where she and Garp yelled at each other lol.

Anyways! On with the questions!

 **Any ideas with your planned Devil Fruit?**

Well, since most of the PMs and reviews I've received have asked this question (and believe me, they are a LOT), I believe I should be able to divulge this information with you since you'll be seeing it in the next(? Or next next?) chapter lololol. I've already done my fair share of researching, and what I've come to notice most is that many AU!writers of Luffy having a different devil fruit tend to give him a Logia-Type or a Mythical Zoan-Type. I'm, erm, kinda embarrassed 'cause the devil fruit I had in mind will still be a Paramecia-type (I just love how random this shits are) because Logias seem difficult to handle what with their significantly all-around weakness to Armament Haki, and I don't think S!Luffy exactly screams out Zoan-user (does she? IDK HAHAHA). I don't want to make her too over-powered lol (*blatantly ignores the scenes where a two-year old S!Luffy climbed trees and fucking _knifed_ a tiger, because _Monkey_ *) but I also want to make her strong enough that you go WOOHOO, YOU GO GIRL, HAND THEM THEIR ASSES instead of, woah, unrealistic much.

Aaaanyways, before I get even more sidetracked hahahaha, I'll give you another hint. The Devil Fruit I have in mind for S!Luffy (if she'll even consume it. I'm so torn with this idea lol) will play more towards her, well, difference in intelligence with the original Luffy (I even brought out my Chemistry and Physics books for this stupid fruit and spent like, what, two days studying and taking down notes.)

But hey, I might just be baiting you guys because I'm crazy like that.

Still! Give me your ideas of what Luffy's DF should be! I need some inspiration juice lolz.

 **WTF YOU KILLED MELISSA, YOU HEATHEN!**

Oh, um, erm, _yeah_ I did ahaha, and I feel absolutely guilty about that but it had to be done because, aside from needing more words in the chapter lolololol, it was really, _really_ necessary. I'd honestly planned it since the start of the Melissa Arc (and thank God, I'm fucking done with it after five? Six? chapters) because for plot reasons and also for character development; also, I've been kind of baiting you guys that I had no idea whether or not I was gonna kill her just to see your reactions and votes. But hey, at least we have two new OC characters ne? *gets shot*

Okay, I am officially done with this chapter; so if you have any more questions, just ask me, okay? Btw, I loved all of your reviews and reactions to Luffy FINALLY meeting Ace! And I'm sorry if the little interaction they had in this chapter disappointed you, but hey, you'll get to see them more in the future hehehe. You're all darlings, and I love you all hahaha. Especially the guests! Get accounts guys so I can reply back! Your reviews were one of the best I've had and constantly fueled me *inserts millions of hearts here*

Anyways, see ya'll in the next chapter *blows a kiss*


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** "I am not the liable owner or creator of One Piece. I am but a mere humble fan fiction writer."

 **L.I.N.E.**

 _It takes a while before anything really goes back to normal; even then, it's not the same as it had once been before_ — _not with such a large, missing chunk in the very heart of the village just_ gone _for_ good.

 _But they all manage to get by, because life is like that._

 _It moves on even without you in it._

 _It's a cruel, cold, and hard fact that everybody tries to cover up with excuses such as: "They'll always be in your heart." Or, horribly enough, "The dead always watch over those they love."_

 _Her very existence is very proof of otherwise_ — _because once you go, you actually_ go _and leave the life you've built up for yourself, the people you've come to love, and any material things you ever owned._

 _You'll only have yourself on this journey, which makes it unbearably lonely._

 _She just wishes that she'd been the only one who'd been cursed and blessed enough to have another shot at life, because nobody deserves to have their entire knowledge of peace_ shattered _by waking up in an entirely new body in a world so foreign from their own._

 _(Melissa doesn't deserve to have her hopes of seeing Avant on the other side_ crushed _so cruelly into tiny, jagged pieces of glass.)_

 _It's been getting easier and easier for her to drown in her thoughts what with how quiet the village has been. Everybody treats her and Makino with caution, as if there are eggshells surrounding the both of them and if even one shell gets stepped on then either one of them might just react_ _badly and burst into tears, and she finds it a little irritating because they're not exactly_ subtle _with their worried looks and hushed whispers._

 _Regardless of her annoyance with them, she appreciates the sentiment because being allowed to stew in a corner all by herself allows her to distract herself from her pain by writing down her plans for the future and graphing out a rough estimation of the timeline._

 _Considering that she's only two years old, there are several events that have yet to happen and she writes down as much as she can in chicken feet and using initials in replacement for important events, places, and characters in case anybody gets a hold of her personal journal._

 _Occasionally, she finds herself sick of what she has to write, because there's an irritatingly nagging voice in the back of her mind that tells her it's hopeless to even try changing things._

 _What's annoying enough is that sometimes, she believes the voice, especially when she scribbles down as much of what she knows of what has already happened and what has yet to happen, and sees that_ —

— _That there's just…_ so much to fix _._

 _What's even_ more _depressing is that there is also_ so much _that could have been fixed if she'd been born just a decade or so earlier._

 _But, on most occasions, she is diligent in her work because she_ has to be _. There's no use crying over spilt milk anymore_ — _no use thinking of Roger's execution more than half a decade ago, of Rouge whose last action was to be a loving mother five years ago, and of Ohara that_ _ **burned**_ _to the ground a year just before she'd been born_ — _because what's the use?_

 _Crying solves absolutely nothing, and it isn't a part of her plan to do_ nothing at all.

 _She doesn't plan to play God or anything as spectacularly complicated like that; no, rather than that, her plan is a complicated kind of simplicity._

 _All she wants is to change the world_

 _And maybe, along the way, make it into a better place for the children to live in as well._

" _Huh." She pauses, realization coming to her as her hand hovers over her journal. "How funny," she comments, giggling, before returning back to her plotting._

 _She really is her father's daughter._

 **L.I.N.E.**

It's been five months since Melissa's burial; five months since she'd last seen Ace and the rest of the Dadan Family.

She mulls over how time can breeze so easily quick on her best of days, yet crawl so agonizingly slow on the days where she just wants to burrito herself with her blankets.

Life may move on without you, but it's time that's the scarier of the two. It ticks on, continuously eating what's left to eat, and never gives but instead takes all in due time.

Casting her eerie thoughts aside, she moves on to much more pleasant ones. Ones involving a temperamental, freckled boy.

She wonders how Ace is doing. Is he alright? Does he eat as much as his ten-year old self will? Has he gone on any adventures in Mt. Colubo lately? Has he ever eaten crocodile meat?

Has he, by any chance, met Sabo yet? Have they become friends? Have they already started collecting for their pirate funds?

Has her words managed to reach him?

She wants so desperately to go back to Mt. Colubo and see not only him but the rest as well. She wants to see Dogra and that ridiculous jumper of his, Magra and if whether or not he'd pushed through the disease, and Mamoru and his lethal tail.

She doesn't think of Dadan. She has no pleasant memory of the old woman to moon over.

She misses the short time she'd spent in Mt. Colubo, and admits to no one but herself and Melissa's tombstone that it'd been the most fun she's ever experienced in her two lifetimes.

But she knows it's futile because she'd be nothing but a burden to Makino and the rest of the villagers if she'd ran off again, or even asked them to accompany her through the dangerous territory of Mt. Colubo.

The cold season has returned once more, which means that they've all been terribly busy as of late and she wouldn't want to hinder them from their livelihoods.

After all, food had to be placed on the table somehow, which had only been getting harder now that the weather was getting colder as each day passed by. Their fishermen were already having a difficult time hauling up a meager amount of their usual quota now that most of the fishes had migrated to warmer waters; livestock were forced to their stables until the frigid weather would pass and were no longer allowed to freely graze outside, which meant spending even more Beli on feeds as well as less quantity and quality in the production of milk and eggs; whatever crops they had needed to be covered with a sheet pegged down to the ground to prevent damage, but even that hadn't been enough to stop a small percentage of what they'd grown to wilt because of their cells being frozen solid.

Even Makino is struggling with feeding whatever occasional non-Foosha patrons they have with what the paltry rations they have.

She doesn't want to interpose herself between any of them from their work, so she stays quiet and out of trouble for everybody's sake.

 **L.I.N.E.**

Despite the hardships the entire village was currently facing, she and Makino would still make it a point to go visit Melissa's grave as often as they could—after all, somebody needed to sweep off the leaves and change the flowers. It was the least they could do for their loved one.

Early on, during the period when everyone still carried fresh scars over their hearts from Melissa's burial, she and Makino would regularly visit before the sun had even risen since that had been the only time Makino had any to spare considering that she hadn't yet assimilated into her position as the second owner of Party's Bar and would frequently flounder over stocking and financing.

However, with the cold season in place right now, she and Makino had taken to walking to Melissa's grave in the late afternoon after temporarily closing the bar for a short break, and had been forced to reduce the number of their visits a week if they didn't want to be catching any unwanted colds too soon.

Today, apparently, is one of those days; surprisingly enough, they have some extra company joining them this time.

She nestles her face into Makino's neck, seeking as much warmth as she can despite having a thick scarf and mittens on, and smiles contentedly when she hears Makino's giggle.

"That tickles, Lu," Makino informs her, adjusting her grip on her ward so that she can no longer hide.

"But it's cooold," she whines pitifully, pouting up at Makino who sighs.

"It really is cold," Sheryn agrees, holding Varric close to her chest. "I'm glad I added another layer to my tykes' clothes, else they'd be screaming their heads off by now."

"Scream their heads off?" Teri pipes, voice practically laced with mocked surprise. "No way! They're too sweet to be little monsters in hiding," she coos down at Marie who looks up at her with big, dark green eyes. "Aren't you little angels, ne, Mari?"

"It's Ma-rie, not Mari," Sheryn huffs. "Don't go giving them nicknames when their names are already short enough."

"Stingy!" Teri whines. "There's hardly any difference!"

Makino laughs. "It's her kids, Teri. Let her do what she wants with them," she admonishes with no real fire behind her words.

However, before they could possibly wrangle over such a simple topic, Melissa's grave appears within their sight and all three young women pick up their pace.

When they finally arrive, they each go off to do their thing.

As Teri and Sheryn spread the picnic blanket wide with the twins watching curiously from their spot safely on the ground, she and Makino start their ritual of plucking out any dead leaves sullying Melissa's grave and replacing the wilted posy they'd left before with a fresher one.

"Can you teach me, Makino-nee?" She asks as she fluffs up the yellow zinnias that Teri had been so kind to let them pick out from her indoor garden.

"How to garden?" Makino presumes from where she's securely tying the straw bag of dead leaves—most likely to serve as fuel for the furnace at the back.

She nods. "I'd like to grow my own flowers," she confesses. "And maybe some herbs too…"

Makino smiles. "You should go ask Sheila. She has a small greenhouse behind her home, and it's helped her run her pharmacy," she advises. "…You're really interested in herbs, aren't you?" Makino blinks, looking as if she's just realized this. "You keep studying about them, and you even brought home a couple of them from your…run away," it's apparent that Makino had hesitated to bring up the topic, because she bites her bottom lip afterwards and looks away with a crease appearing in between her eyebrows.

She winces at the reminder of what she'd done—guilt and shame becoming familiar friends with her heart once more—and she averts her gaze as well. "I only did it because I wanted to help Melissa-obaa," she answers.

Not once have they talked about the incident five months ago. Makino's never once asked, or ever brought up the topic until now, so she's never really answered or explained what _exactly_ had happened during her time in Mt. Colubo.

Everyone in Foosha knows that she'd ran off to find something to help Melissa and gathered whatever herbs she'd brought back home—she's still stewing in embarrassment at how they'd called her _Book Thief_ just to see Cocoi sulk at the mention of his notes that had yet to be sewed back.

What they don't know, however, is that it'd been _her_ who'd prepared the herbs—they'd all assumed that there'd been somebody else in Mt. Colubo who'd done that for her. She keeps her knowledge close to her heart, as well as what, exactly, had happened during her time in the jungle.

They know about Mamoru, though. _Everybody_ in Foosha knows about Mamoru. Two months after Melissa's death, she'd confessed to Teri that she'd missed the monkey she'd befriended in Mt. Colubo and the news had spread like wildfire within the day

They just don't know about the snake. Or the mountain bandits. Or Ace. Or god forbid the _tiger_.

"Do you want to become a doctor, Luffy?" Sheryn pipes up before she could possibly spend a little longer getting lost in her thoughts.

She blinks at the sudden, close-to-heart question and finds herself at a loss for words.

"She could be one," Teri muses. "She's got the brains for it, and I know your husband likes her enough to teach her once she's older."

Makino looks down at her, features expressing nothing but curiosity. "Is that you what you want, Lu?" She asks. "Do you want to become a doctor?"

She hesitates—because once, it had never been _do you want to_ ; instead, it had always been _you have to_ or _is that even good enough_ —but finds herself being stupid again.

Because Makino is nothing like her previous parents; she is affectionate, caring, doting, loving, solicitous and has never once shown an inkling of wanting to mold her into the ideal child that others would be envious of.

Just when she's ready to answer Makino's question, Sheryn gracefully butts in.

"But wait," Sheryn says, her entire features lighting up as if she's perceived something of great importance. "Wait, wait, wait!" She continuously repeats, her voice getting louder with each word.

"What?" Teri inquires with a raised eyebrow.

"Just…think about it," Sheryn says slowly, looking for all the world like somebody had stolen her best pillowcases. "Luffy. Becoming a doctor. With _Makino_ as her guardian," Sheryn says, shooting Makino the foulest of glares.

She tilts her head in confusion, whereas Makino sighs, as if this is a _thing_ , and Teri gasps in horror as she pales dramatically.

" _No_ ," Teri bemoans.

" _Yes!_ " Sheryn cries.

"Girls," Makino sighs.

" _She'll never find love at this rate!_ " Teri wails out as if this is the most horrible thing in the world, which frankly isn't. "Lu-chan. _Lu-chan_. She'll be like the second coming of Maki! Married to her job and cursed to spend the rest of her days as a spinster!"

"I am _not_ married to my job!" Makino protests.

The looks that Sheryn and Teri shoot at her are ones of doubt and pity.

Sensing a dispute amongst the harpies, she moves away from them and closes in on the twins, who seem to be concentrated on slobbering their own teething rings.

When she kneels down before them, two pairs of large, viridescent green eyes immediately latch onto her. She smiles at the exuberant babbles she gets from Varric and rewards his adorable behavior by tickling him to entice some sweet laughs from him.

"Aren't you just a cutie," she coos, going in to blow a raspberry on his belly. Varric squeals in delight and kicks both of her shoulders, which actually _hurts_. "Okay, _ow_. I call break time. Tickle monster's got to rest too," she laughs, pulling herself away from the red-cheeked baby boy.

As she lets Varric recover his breath, she looks over at Marie and blinks in surprise at seeing the younger girl crawling sluggishly towards where her younger twin is.

She decides to sit back and watch. She's come to realize that Marie—unlike the innocent and oblivious Varric who babbled constantly—was quieter and mellower, preferring to play on her own yet always paid attention to her brother when he demanded for it.

Marie unceremoniously drapes herself across Varric, who emits a sound between a squeal and a squawk. She stays there, unmoving and unrelenting, even as her younger brother kicks up a fuss.

Eventually, Varric resigns himself to his fate and concludes that since she wouldn't be getting off of him any time soon, he might as well take a nap.

Varric yawns a couple of times before dozing off to sleep.

When she checks, she blinks at seeing that Marie has already dozed off before her brother had and laughs at the strategy of this little tyke.

She pulls out a blanket of the little picnic basket brought along to the trip and covers the twins as to protect them from the cold.

She reaches out to caress Marie's cherubic cheeks, sighing softly at the warmth it radiates.

She is grateful for the twins' existence; she's sure that without them, it wouldn't have been easy for her to fill up the void Melissa's death had left in her heart. She loves them—as much as she loves everybody that she holds dear to her heart—and revels in their laughter and squeals and incoherent babbles.

They're not like her. She knows because she sees the innocence and curiosity in their eyes—that eager wonder that pushes their desire to _learn_ and _experiment_ —unlike hers, which always look tired and old whenever she looks in the mirror, and she's relieved.

They're fresh life, and will have the chance to grown on their own without any past life inhibiting them.

And for them, and many others, she will fight for.

 **L.I.N.E.**

Woop Slap is old.

He's known this ever since he'd hit his forties and one of the adults he used to babysit had clapped him on the back and laughed at how he was still terrorizing the young'uns.

But he's never really felt _old_ —well, not until day after he'd learned of Melissa's sudden passing. He'd woken up blearily and sluggishly that morning, probably because he'd had one too many drinks all by his lonesome self.

When he'd dragged himself out of bed that day, he'd felt the joints in his bones pop as they'd always done, moved to take the glass of water by his bedside table, and stopped just to stare at his morning medicine.

Because Melissa _is dead_ , and that cold hard fact is like a wake-up slap to him that time waits for absolutely _no one_ —not even the fearless and scary bar lady who had seemed immortal to the eyes of every Foosha villager who'd come to know her.

It makes Woop Slap feel old—that a cherished friend of his has finally passed on—and the knowledge that comes with it makes him breathe out heavily as a sudden weight appears atop his shoulders.

It makes him feel like one step closer to death.

Woop Slap isn't afraid of death. He's faced it several times in the form of the ocean when he'd gone out fishing during the most terrible of storms just to bring back food for his sick mother and ignorant younger sister. He just doesn't want to face it just yet—just when he _knows_ that something's about to happen.

His instincts have never failed him before, and he doubts that they'd break their perfect streak now.

A storm is coming. One big enough to make the entire world _look_ and take note of its destructive beauty; foolish as it may be, Woop Slap wants to live long enough to see it.

And he has his bet on Dragon's girl _being_ that storm.

He's known this ever since he'd laid eyes on the little, black-haired babe sitting comfortably in Garp's arm.

She'd looked at him back then; though her grin was just as bright as her grandfather's, there was no mistaking the way her dark eyes had glinted in the same way as her father's had.

Woop Slap knows a Monkey when he sees one, but Luffy—

—Luffy was a _weird_ Monkey, and that was _something_.

She was everything and nothing a Monkey was in one package.

Sometimes, she would be as boisterous as her grandfather—babbling incessantly about the things that interested her, demanding food without so much as a second thought, and shimmying up to places that no girl her age should—other times, she'd be as calm as her father had been—quietly entertaining herself behind the bar counter whenever everybody was too busy, docilely listening to what the adults had to say to her, and just generally not being a nuisance, which was incredibly ironic now.

But most of the time—most of the time, she was just _Luffy_ , and Woop Slap came to understand that she was just an entirely different variation of her own.

But there were times when Woop Slap just _couldn't_ understand.

Times like now.

Spotting the aforementioned girl sitting by the edge of the pier, he sighs and makes his way over to her.

"Oi, Luffy!" He calls and knows he has the girl's attention when he sees her twitch. "You shouldn't be sitting there alone. It's dangerous! You could fall off if you're not careful," he chides.

Luffy looks back at him, her eyes glinting in the same way as her father's, and she smiles widely at him. "Woop Slap-oji!" She greets, waving enthusiastically at him. "Join me, join me!" She practically commands, and who is he to refuse such a simple offer from the sweet girl?

"Did you even hear what I just said?" He huffs as he takes a seat beside her.

Luffy laughs—soft, carefree, and happy. "I always do," she beams. There's that mischief in her eyes again, and Woop Slap knows enough that there's a deeper meaning to her words.

Luffy always hears, he knows this. He also knows that Luffy _understands_ what comes into her ears. The brat has always been too smart for her own age, and Woop Slap fears the day she becomes a second Garp with _brains_.

Maybe that's the storm that's coming. Two Garps alive in the same timeline. Poseidon save them all, 'cause they're all doomed.

Woop Slap notices that she's looking at the rippling water down below. "Don't even think about it," he warns, because he isn't in the mood to dive into the ocean to save some brat too curious for her own good.

"Hmm?" Luffy hums, blinking out the haze in her eyes. "Ne, Woop Slap-oji," she says, her voice soft and sounding distracted, as she kicks her short legs in the air. The bruises and scratches she'd received from her little adventure have already healed. "When do you think Poppy will come home?" She asks, never once looking up at him.

She looks like the child who'd thrown flowers into her grandmother's grave.

She looks _lonely_.

Involuntarily, his throat tightens at the difficult question. "You know that's something none of us can answer," he answers, even though there's a Den Den Mushi hidden in his house that could be used any time to get the proper answers. "Your grandfather randomly comes and goes because of his job."

Luffy hums in understanding.

Woop Slap knows better. The girl is most likely frowning on the inside, judging by how her lips twitch downwards.

"But it's already a new year and I thought…" Luffy stops herself from saying any more and clamps her mouth shut. "Never mind," she mutters.

"Hey, it's okay," Woop Slap reassures, wrapping an arm around her little shoulders. Luffy looks up at him with large eyes. "Your grandpa will come home. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow or next week, but one day he'll come home. You just have to wait it out," he advises, all the while thinking that he's _really_ not one for pep talks.

Luffy's expression sours, looking as if she'd chewed a lemon for a whole minute. "Fine," she grumbles.

After patting himself on the back for a job well done, Woop Slap stands up and offers Luffy a hand, one she takes when he suggests, "Come. Let's go see if Makino has anything sweet to spare for you."

Luffy smiles enigmatically after he pulls her up, her eyes twinkling in a way that she knows something he doesn't.

And Woop Slap doesn't doubt that.

 **L.I.N.E.**

Today is the fifth of May, which means that today is her _birthday_ —a time that's supposed to be celebrated because she's racked in another year to her age.

She celebrates it with the rest of the villagers, as she'd done the year before, and they hold it outside where the sky is a shade lighter than the deep blue sea stretched far and wide past the coast of their island.

Every dining table in Foosha Village has been brought out for the festivity, and laid atop each one are several dishes of the Fooshian cuisine—some of which look good enough to eat, whilst the rest she eyes suspiciously because of their unpalatable appearances—but the real eye-catcher is the frosted cake set in the middle that Makino had spent the better part of the past week learning how to make.

Her cheeks ablaze a brilliantly crimson hue as everybody jauntily sings a very happy birthday to her.

There aren't any candles for her to blow on her birthday cake, but it matters not.

She closes her eyes—sees the flame from within her crackling louder and flaring brighter than it ever has before—and makes her wish.

"Happy birthday, you brat," Woop Slap wishes, the corners of his lips curved up into a rare grin. "Here's your gift." He hands over a brown paper bag, which she can tell is filled with the hard candy he gives her daily.

"Thanks, Woop Slap-oji," she says, beaming brightly up at him.

"Varric!" Sheryn shrieks in horror, and all eyes are immediately on her to see what's going on. "You naughty child! You've ruined your big sister's cake!" Sheryn scolds, the blazing depths of hell practically burning in her eyes, as she stares down at her son who hardly looks fazed at his angry mother and instead just grins sweetly at her.

"Now he's done it," Cocoi sighs, suddenly appearing next to her, which makes her jump. "Sorry 'bout that, Lu," he apologizes, shooting her a strained smile.

From his arms, Marie tilts her head, blinking owlishly.

She laughs back in reply. "It's alright, but you should probably tell Makino-nee that too. She's the one who made that cake," she advises, looking around her for guardian, and frowning when she can't see her.

She stiffens when her eyesight suddenly goes dark, but gradually relaxes when a familiar voice whispers into her ear, "Who am I?"

Her smile widens and she places her hands over the ones covering her eyes. "Is i~t," she hums, pretending to be clueless. "Teri-nee?"

"Guess again~"

"Is i~t," she hums once more. "Sheryn-nee?"

A snort. "She's too busy wiping the cake off her face."

"Oh! Then you must be Makino-nee!" She exclaims confidently, only to shriek when she feels Makino lift her up so that she has no way to escape the raspberry aimed for the back of her neck. "MAKINO-NEE, NO!" She screams, thrashing wildly.

Everybody laughs wildly at her reaction.

Later on, when the sky's blue has bled into shades of red and orange to highlight the setting sun, she sits by the pier and swings her legs, listening to the busy chatter of the adults packing up food to bring home for leftovers.

She stares down at ripples in the large body of water underneath her, feels the blood coursing through her veins sing, and wonders what makes it _yearn_.

Maybe it's a Monkey thing, or a D thing, because she knows that she wasn't _this_ obsessed with the ocean in her past life.

She feels before she sees Makino sitting beside her. She looks up, sees the young woman smiling sadly at her, and looks away, knowing the conversation that's about to happen.

"I'm sorry," Makino murmurs, wrapping an arm around her petite shoulders, like Woop Slap had done so many weeks ago. "I'm sorry that your grandfather couldn't come."

"It's fine," she answers, even though it's not. Melissa isn't here, so what's one more? "I had fun anyways," she says instead, smiling happily up at Makino.

Makino's eyes soften. "It's okay not to be okay. You know that, right?"

She continues smiling. "I know," she answers; after all, it's fine not to say you're okay either.

Makino sighs, as if she knows what she's thinking, which she doesn't doubt.

"Can we visit Melissa-obaa later?" She asks, her gaze flicking upwards to look up at the sky that has yet to reveal its invisible stars. "I'd like to see the fireflies again." It's summer, after all.

Makino inclines her head, eyes gleaming from the sun's dying rays. "Later," she promises.

 **L.I.N.E.**

She's not really angry with Garp. Pissed off, maybe, but not really angry.

He's a Marine, after all. He can't help the profession he chose. Duty comes first before everything else, and even family isn't a special exception.

( _She remembers Portgas D. Ace, cuffed and bound by the sea's power to the execution platform, and looking as pathetic as he feels his life must be._

 _She remembers Garp, who sat and talked to the pirate with fire in fists, yet never once raised a hand to help family._

 _There are more_ , the voice in the back of her head whispers. _More of those who've betrayed and have been betrayed. More of those who've been hurt and have hurt._ )

Still, she _dutifully_ ignores her grandfather's continuous endeavor to capture her attention, pretending that she's too engrossed in her book to even remember that the outside world exists.

"She's really mad at you, Garp-san." She hears Makino say, an attempt to dissuade her grandfather from pushing her buttons too much.

Makino clearly fails; in fact, her attempt seems to only encourage him to _try harder_.

"Grandpa is really sorry, Lu," he says, switching tactics and referring to himself in third person. "Look, look. Grandpa even got you a cute teddy bear. Don't you like it?"

She doesn't even have to look up from her book to know that the stupid bear is dressed in a stupid sailor uniform with the stupid honorary colors of the stupid Marines.

"Don't want it," she bluntly says, which is a _fucking lie_. The stupid bear is stupidly cute, and she likes stupidly cute things.

"Luffy," Makino says in _that voice_. "Don't say that. You should be happy that your poppy bought you a gift," the barmaid admonishes.

She looks up, eyes wide and lower lip jutted out, and she knows that she's won the battle when Makino's eyes soften.

"Maybe you should've gotten her a book, Garp-san," Makino takes her side, smiling apologetically at Garp.

She hears Garp mutter something underneath his breath, but her ears honed by Melissa to pick up gossip manages to hear the word 'brat' in whatever he's muttering.

"What do you want, Luffy?" Garp sighs, sounding defeated.

She ignores him, baiting him for a little while longer.

"We can go over to Goa Kingdom and get you something else you'd like."

She twitches at the offer but remains stubbornly quiet and ignorant of her grandfather. Just a _little_ more.

"C'mon, Lu. Just look at me. Grandpa is _really_ sorry, and he'll do _anything_ to get you to forgive him."

Hook, line, and fucking _sinker_.

She visibly perks up. With eyes gleaming sinisterly, she turns to face her grandfather. "Anything?" She nearly purrs. "Anything, Poppy?" She repeats, giving him one last chance to back out because she's nice like that, smiling a mercilessly sweet smile at him.

Garp grins. "Of course!" He boasts, oblivious to the dark plots she'd concocted beforehand.

From the corner of her eye, she catches Makino and Woop Slap sharing a look of utter resignation. She places the book she's been reading atop the bar counter and clasps her hands. "Then I want to see Ace!" She chirps.

Whilst Makino drops whatever glass she's holding and Woop Slap chokes on air, Garp just blinks at her. "So I was right. You two've met already," he says it, plain and simple.

The _how_ is left unheard of and unspoken, not when Makino and Woop Slap are here, but it's obvious that he'll try to pull the story out of her later this evening.

"Yup!" She beams. "Can we?"

Garp's eyes narrow—and she knows that he's trying to determine _why_ she wants to see Ace, which she can't really blame him for. Ace is such a little ball of rage that it's a wonder why _anybody_ wants to be near him—but he grins at her.

"Of course! We can go later tonight after I'm done visiting Melissa," Garp offers.

Nope. Nope, nope, nope. If Garp comes along with her now, then whatever friendly interaction she could have with Ace might as well go up in fucking flames.

Pouting, and trying to save the remnants of her plan, she whines, "But I wanna go noooow! Can't I go on my own?"

"No," Garp rejects firmly, steel in his eyes. "Remember what happened last time?"

She visibly deflates at her grandfather's ruthlessness. "But you said _anything_ ," she sighs out wistfully, looking downtrodden.

Garp winces, as if a Haki-infused arrow had pierced right through his heart. "I did, but it's like you're just asking to get yourself killed, and I can't let that happen," he explains, and his words goes in through one ear and goes out through the other.

"That's not fair," she complains. She can't give up. Not like this. Her eyes need to see Ace and his stupid freckles before she goes absolutely insane with how obsessively worried she is over him. Suddenly, a light bulb lights up the inner sanctums of her mind, and she has an _idea_. "Wait. Can't you just drop me off at Dadan-san's place?" She asks, hope swelling in her chest.

When she sees the contemplative expression on Garp's features, she considerably brightens up. "Then it's settled!" She decides on her own. "Ne, ne, Makino-nee! Can you help me prepare my lunchboxes? Oh! Do we still have any leftover cake from the twins' birthday? Can we put it in too?!" She nearly drools at the thought of chocolate cake. Chocolate itself was rare to come by now, especially with their rural area, but everybody in Foosha had managed to pitch in to buy enough chocolate for the twins' first birthday cake, which was why they even had any right now.

A strained smile appears on Makino's face. "I don't think your grandfather's decided yet," she says, and its evident in her voice that she doesn't _want_ her to go.

"He'll say yes," she grins, wide and confident in her words.

"You're not possibly considering this, Garp," Woop Slap deadpans, suspiciously glaring at the Marine.

"I am," is Garp's blunt answer. "It's a good idea. I'll just drop her off at Dadan's place and the two of us can go share drinks with Melissa one more time," he says, looking up at the ceiling thoughtfully.

"Garp-san!" Makino exclaims in objection. "No! You can't! Luffy can wait for you here in the bar, where it's safer," the barmaid suggests.

Feeling betrayed, she looks up at her older sister with big eyes. "But Makino-nee," she protests, a frown starting to form on her lips. "There's nothing I can do here! Let me go, please? I'll promise to behave. And I won't go off on my own too! So please?" She begs, just short of dropping to her knees and throwing a fake tantrum because she's _that_ desperate.

Makino holds her gaze, features firm and willpower strong.

"Please?" She asks one more time, trying to look as pathetic as she can. "I won't disappear this time," she tacks on, because maybe _that's_ what's worrying Makino.

After a several seconds of intense staring, Makino's strong image crumbles and the barmaid sighs as she runs her fingers through her hair underneath her kerchief.

"Just," Makino pauses, as if trying to look for the right words to say. "Just stay safe, okay?" Makino settles on.

She nods eagerly. "I will! I'll come back later tonight with no bruises!" She promises.

Makino smiles that soft, sad smile of hers. "I hope so."

Having received permission from her guardian, she turns to face her grandfather and beams brightly. "You hear that? Makino-nee said yes! So can we go, Poppy? Can we, can we?" She pokes on and on and on.

"As long as you keep your promises," Garp says, and she eagerly nods in reply. He grins broadly and picks her up to hold her up high in the air. "BWAHAHAHA! Then sure! Why not?" He bellows out with laughter in accompaniment.

His laughter is infectious, and she finds herself laughing. Even Makino is giggling politely from behind her hand.

But Woop Slap just throws his hands up in the air. "Monkeys!" He complains, and Makino's giggles evolve into laughter as well at that.

 **L.I.N.E.**

One year. That's how long since she'd gone on her arduous adventure and came back to home to Foosha with a bag full of herbs and a goal in her mind.

She's never realized how much she'd missed the jungle. After all, what's there to miss in a jungle that's full of dangerous animals that she has vivid memories of them trying to eat her?

But Mt. Colubo welcomes her as a mother would. The warm breeze that drifts by feels like a loving caress to her face, the way the leaves and grass move to and fro resemble hands waving at her, and the faint animal sounds she's able to pick up echo as greetings to her ears.

She closes her eyes, breathes in the familiar earthy scent of the jungle, and sighs out peacefully.

Dangerous animals aside, she has wonderful memories of this place. This was where she met Mamoru; where she stumbled across Dogra and Dadan and Magra; where she found _Ace_ and the resolution that she was so lacking in this world.

Mt. Colubo is _beautiful_ , despite how insane it is.

"Come along now, Lu!" Garp calls out.

A brown blur whizzes across the treetops above, and she manages to catch sight of it before it completely disappears. She smiles knowingly, and turns to face her grandfather. "Coming!" She calls back, running after him.

They trek through Mt. Colubo with nary an accident; eventually, they reach Dadan's hideout.

With butterflies fluttering about in her stomach, she stands behind her grandfather's legs with her hands tightly gripping his pants and watches as he pounds on the door.

She anxiously bites her bottom lip at the unmistakable sound of Dadan screeching at Magra to open the door, and she feels as if a burden has been completely lifted off of her when the door swings open and Magra—healthy and _alive_ —emerges into her vision.

"Hello," Garp greets, mouth curling up into an utterly feral grin, and _leers_ down at the bandit. "Nice to see you're up on your own two feet this time, bandit."

Terror instantaneously appears on Magra's face, and his mouth drops open into what seems like a silent scream.

"G-Garp-san," Magra croaks out after finding his voice. "W-W-What can I do for y-you?" He stammers out, visibly sweating.

"Where's your boss?" Garp asks, straight to the point, and Magra is quick to retreat back to the safety of the shack to retrieve his boss.

Eight seconds later, Dadan appears with the back of Magra's and Dogra's collars held tightly in her fists.

"G-Garp-san!" The mountain bandit boss cries out, looking close to tears at the sight of one of her worst nightmares in her doorstep. "W-What are you doin' here? We haven't done anythin' wrong since your last visit!"

Both of her eyebrows rise at Dadan's claim. She sincerely doubts that. Dadan has more shiny rings on her fingers than the last time she saw her.

"Hmmm. Really?" Garp asks, grin still in place, and she knows enough of her grandfather to know that he takes delight in watching all three bandits practically sweat buckets underneath his scrutiny. "It ain't good for any of you thieves to be lying straight to my face, you know?" He says, offhandedly waving a fist near Dadan's face.

The color drains from the mountain bandit's skin tone, and Dadan looks about ready to keel over and kowtow deeply to Garp and confess whatever atrocities she and her group had been up to over the past year.

But Garp, mercifully enough, switches the subject before any of the mountain bandits becomes uselessly speechless to him. "Where's Ace?"

"A-Ace?" Dadan utters intelligently enough, blinking. "How should we know?! That kid disappears every time first thing in the morning 'fore we can even catch him to do his chores!" She complains with a scowl.

Garp merely laughs at the lack of discipline showcased by his charge. "BWAHAHAHA! That's my Ace! He'll make a fine Marine, that one!" He boasts proudly.

The three bandits share skeptical looks, but none of them have the heart, or the courage, to dispute Garp otherwise.

"Well, since that brat ain't here yet, seems like I'll be leaving you guys in charge of my littlest," Garp announces before he drags her out from where she's hiding behind him. "Now come on, Lu. Say hello," he coaxes, voice fatherly.

She looks up at the three mountain bandits, gauges the surprise on Dadan's and Dogra's expressions and the curiosity on Magra's, and beams quite brightly up at them. "Hi!" She nearly _screams_ from her nerves, and winces at the high pitch of her voice. "I don't know if you still remember me, but I'm the one who tried to help Magra-san! My name's Monkey D. Luffy, and it's nice to meet you all!" She fully introduces herself in a slightly gentler voice, and bows accordingly to what Melissa and Makino had drilled into her. "Sorry 'bout not telling you that he's my grandpa. Slipped out of my mind, this one. Shishishishi," she laughs sheepishly as she pats her grandfather's knee.

"HOW COULD YOU FORGET ABOUT GARP?!" Dadan and Dogra exclaim in unison, disbelief written all over their faces.

Magra, on the other hand, tilts his head as he recalls whatever memories he has of the time he'd been bedridden for more than a week. "You…You're bucket girl," he realizes as he stares at her with wide, wide eyes.

She smiles wryly at his nickname for her. "Yep. That's me," she confirms, pushing away any memories she has of the putrid smell of the mess he'd left in the bucket.

"Wait, wait, wait," Dadan suddenly interrupts, apprehension dawning upon her features. "You mentioned somethin' 'bout leavin' your kid. Don't tell me…?" Dadan reluctantly trails off, looking down at her with horror clear in her dark eyes.

"I'll be leaving Luffy in your care," Garp confirms, nodding firmly.

All three bandits look as if they'd been struck by lightning at Garp's easygoing words.

"But only for today!" She pipes up, correcting the assumption the bandits had concluded that they would be raising another one of Garp's brats. "And I won't cause any trouble, promise!" She beams, deceptively innocent and carefree.

All three bandits look to Garp for confirmation—they've had enough practice with Ace that little brats hardly spout the truth—and they breathe out a sigh of relief when the Marine wordlessly nods in affirmation.

"Well, if it's only for a day…" Dadan trails off. "Then I guess it'll be okay."

"Then my business here is done," Garp concludes before he kneels down to the ground so that he can easily grab both of her shoulders. "You remember what you promised to me, right? No disappearing act like last time, you hear me?" He demands with absolute severity that disallows any excuses.

"Aye, sir!" She salutes him, her palm covered and the tips of her finger barely brushing against the hairs of her right brow.

Garp cracks a smile. "That's my soldier," he says, the warm pride in his chest seeping into his voice. "Grampa'll come back for you tonight, so you just wait for me, okay?"

"Okay," she eagerly nods.

Satisfied with her answer, Garp gets up, gives her one last pat on the head, before he looks back at the bandits with a dangerous look in his eyes. "If there's so much as a scratch on her when I get back," he warns, voice low, before his killing intent slams down onto the bandits—potent enough to leave the mountain bandits shuddering and perspiring cold sweat.

Although it isn't directed at her, her palms feel clammy at the sudden drop of temperature and her throat tightens when the air around them seems denser than before.

Her instincts blare at her to run. Run now. Run and hide beneath a fucking rock _now_.

And it's taking everything inside of her to _stay_.

Just as instantly as it had appeared, Garp withdraws his killing intent just as fast before he turns on his heel and walks away, eventually vanishing from her line of sight once he has to trek down the dirt path leading back to Foosha.

 _Holy shit_ , she thinks. _Holy fish on shit cakes_. Her once notoriously genius plot to run off into the jungle to go find Ace now seems like the stupidest thing she's ever come up with.

"Poppy sure is scary," she voices aloud the obvious.

"Well of course he's scary!" Dogra exclaims. "He's _Garp_! He makes going 'to jail easier than doing his bidding!" He bemoans as he stuffs his face into his hands. "And you! You never told us that Garp was your gramps!" He accuses her, jabbing his finger in her direction.

She points at herself, putting on the most innocent expression she can muster. "Who, me? Why, I never really told you guys in the first place 'cause nobody bothered to _ask_ ," her lips curl up into a Cheshire grin. "Besides, it slipped out of mind. Really, it did."

Dogra glares down at her, not buying her story one bit. " _Lies_ ," he hisses.

She smiles unassumingly at him before she turns her attention to Magra. "Magra-san! It's so good to see you look better now! I was worried that the Marine doctor couldn't help you even though Poppy told me you were going to be okay. I can hardly trust the word of a man who doesn't know the difference between a deadly disease and a simple fever," she hurries over to him to get a better look at him. "I'd check you over but I don't have enough time today. I still have some things to do, you know?"

Magra blinks down at her. "You're name's Luffy, yeah?" He asks, and his voice is surprisingly gentle despite his intimidating looks and profession.

"Yep, but you can call me Lu," she proposes.

He looks taken aback by her offer, eyes widening just a little bit, but he recovers soon enough and gifts her with a smile. "Call me Magra then. You helped me a lot when I was sick, and I didn't get the chance to say thanks 'fore Garp-san dragged you 'way."

Her chest feels significantly lighter than it had been before, and she's sure that her smile has grown at least a centimeter larger. "It's no big deal," she tries for humble and modest, and she's sure she looks the part with how red her cheeks are. "I'm just glad you're better now," she assures him, before turning to look up at Dadan who is scowling down at her as if she's some pest, which she probably is to the woman's eyes.

"Oi, brat. Since you'll be staying with us for today, you'll have to pull your own weight around here, which means you'll have to do what we tell you to, clear?" Dadan snaps, voice firm and leaving no room for argument.

She promptly tears down a wall in said room and defiantly tilts her chin up just a little bit. "No," she refuses.

"HAH? What did you say?" Dadan demands, reaching forward to grasp her shirt.

She gracefully steers clear off of Dadan's reach and manages to catch herself before she's sprawled face first into the ground from stumbling over a wayward pebble.

"I said no," she repeats calmly. "I have better things to do than finish whatever chores you shove onto me," she says, raising an eyebrow at their telltale grimace. Most of Dadan's scenes consisted of her yelling at both Ace and the original Luffy to do their chores for once, so it really isn't surprising that they'd substituted 'ward' with 'slave.'

"If you'll excuse me, I have an impolite boy to beat some manners into," she bids them farewell, before turning on her heel and making her way towards a narrow path in between two bushes.

"Wait!" Dogra cries out. "We can't let you go! Garp'll have our heads once we finds out you're not here!"

She stops, but not because of Dogra. The branches above flutter ever so slightly, causing leaves to tumble down. Her eyes may not be as sharp as Hawk's, but she's sure that the pair of beady black eyes staring down at her belong to the brown blur that has been following her ever since she'd stepped into the forest.

The very second their gazes met, her stalker emerges from his shadowy sanctuary in the foliage and hops down from his perch.

He lands in front of her with a solid _thud_.

He's larger than she'd last seen him—thicker with corded muscles and a good head taller than her this time—and her eyes immediately stray towards the large, jagged scar that lies horizontally over the only area on his belly not covered by fur.

His canines, at least an inch longer than they'd been before, glints maliciously in the sun's light when he bares them at her.

Her eyes seek his once more, and she _reads_. Mamoru is overjoyed to see her— _friend, friend is back, friend is here, friend isn't hurt_ —and eager for what's to come— _so much to tell, kill those that hurt, food in bag, will friend give?_

Without so much as an ounce of hesitation, she wraps her arms around him and squeezes him into a tight hug. Mamoru jolts at her touch, arms hanging limply by his sides, as if he doesn't know what to do, and she looks up at him to return his scary smile with one of her much softer ones. "I missed you too, buddy," she says.

Content, she pulls away from him and turns to face the bandits who are gawking at her. Amusement blooms right next to her heart. "My ride's here, so that means I'll be going now," she says, pushing down slightly on Mamoru's shoulders. The monkey seems to understand what she wants, for he crouches down lowly upon the forest floor. She easily mounts his back, wrapping her arms around his thick neck just as he wraps his tail around waist.

"I'll be back before sundown!" She just has enough time to promise before Mamoru leaps into the trees and practically _flies_ from branch to branch.

 **L.I.N.E.**

"H-Holy _shit_ ," she croaks out, throat throbbing painfully from screaming her fucking head off.

They've been traversing through the forest nonstop for what feels like an hour or more, with no real destination in mind aside from straight forward.

Even when there was a cliff blocking their way, Mamoru was clearly undeterred for he took to _climbing_ it up by using whatever ledges there were.

Whatever animals they encountered merely took one look at them— _ehem,_ Mamoru _, ehem_ —and fucking _scattered_.

It seems that Mamoru has instilled fear into the hearts of every animal perfectly, which was amazing enough, considering that he is only a _monkey_ in a jungle where beasts thrice the size of ordinary human beings roamed.

Mamoru halts by a branch, giving her the chance to catch her breath, and she gladly does so in wheezy gasps.

Immediately after her lungs have stopped feeling like they're turning inside out, she looks up from the back of Mamoru's furry head to see what has captured the monkey's attention this time.

She catches sight of a large rift that leads to what appears to be an endless abyss, and realizes that this must be where Ace had kicked the original Luffy into once she spots the narrow, wooden bridge connecting one end to the other.

She snorts, because there is _absolutely_ no fucking wayshe'll let herself be kicked into that hellhole. She doesn't have a death wish, thank you very much; canon be damned and all. She'll make sure that if ever Ace—or _anybody,_ for that matter—throws her into that rift, she'll drag them down along with her.

When Mamoru crouches down lowly onto the branch, causing the wooden part to creak ominously, her heart plummets down into her stomach and she has enough time to shriek—

"Mamoru, NO!"

—before Mamoru promptly _leaps_ and they're fucking _airborne._

She doesn't have any strength inside of her to scream, much less utter an _eep_ , and can only watch with bated breath as they soar over the rift, which is in no way narrow in the least.

She only remembers to breathe once Mamoru safely lands atop a thick branch of a large tree on the other side of the rift.

"Holy mother of Totoro," she gasps.

"Aiiiie!" Mamoru cries out loudly in cheer, raising both of his arms in triumph.

"You crazy son of a gun," she spits out, because _shit_. Shit, shit, _shit_. Mamoru is _insane_. "We could've taken the bridge!" She cries out in despair.

Mamoru looks back at her and narrows his eyes. _It wouldn't be fun_ , are the words he conveys.

"It would've been safe!" She retorts, fists clenching even tighter to his fur.

Mamoru's fluffy tail pats her on the back in an eerily comforting manner. It only happens for a brief moment, and the only warning she gets is his tail wrapping itself around her waist before Mamoru vaults off of the branch and their ninja-ing through the trees once again.

She sighs out loudly, hides her face in Mamoru's back, and resigns herself. She had asked for this. Mamoru-taxi was a better alternative than taking _hours_ walking through the jungle in search for Ace.

 **L.I.N.E.**

Mamoru, despite his great vigor, does not possess a limitless stamina, and the minute she notices his sluggishness she yanks on his fur to get his attention and demands from him to stop.

Mamoru doesn't listen to her, which she had expected, so she brings out her trump card and mentions the food she'd brought for him in her bag.

She nearly goes flying off of his back when he abruptly halts on a thick branch.

So here they are, taking a well-deserved break on a branch.

As Mamoru digs into his share of food, she looks up at what little parts of the sky she could see past the dense foliage of the trees. It's still a bright blue, with the sun shinning overhead, which means that it was hours before the sun would set.

She breathes out through her nose, relieved, before looking around to inspect her surroundings. It is apparent that they are currently in a deeper, and _much_ older, part of the forest—the trees here are easily twice the size of the ones she'd seen, with their large roots even going so far as to emerge from the ground itself and moss climbing alongside wrinkly vines wrapped lazily around thick trunks, and the atmosphere here feels…heavier. Archaic. _Venerable_.

She manages to give in to the jungle's deceptive tranquility and closes her eyes to absorb whatever sunlight she can. However, just as she sags back onto her arms, her eyes suddenly snap open and her finger twitches against the deep groove it had brushed by chance.

"What the…?" She whispers with furrowed brows. She traces the furrow that had been carved into the thick branch, and she belatedly realizes that she's sitting on a compartment of some kind when the pads of her fingers run over corners in the man-made trench.

Quickly shifting off of the lid, she searches for a way to open it and when her fingers manage to hook themselves underneath the lid, she successfully pries the niche open.

Her eyes widen at what she sees.

Treasure. _Lots_ of it, but not enough to buy the Kingdom of Goa itself or her quaint village of windmills. Wads of dark green beli bills sit comfortably near the bottom, where stacks of golden coins are piled up high, and jewelries looking to be of high quality are draped temptingly over the top.

They gleam at her— _take me. Take me now_ —and she can't quite resist picking up a string of fat, heavy pearls.

She marvels at its beauty, her own eyes glinting back at it.

It'd be so easy to take it, to take _all_ of it, but she quashes the greedy part of her and reluctantly returns the necklace to its original place with a sullen pout.

After all, none of it is hers, and she knows _very_ well that whoever owns this little hiding spot of stolen treasures wouldn't be very happy to find it _empty_.

It wouldn't do to steal from a pirate's fund when she's still _,_ well, _weak_ , after all.

Maybe when she's older. _Of course_ when she's older—but right now, it wouldn't leave a good impression on those she'd want to impress if she stole from them, ne?

"Mamoru," she practically croons, and the monkey jerks up at her call. "I believe we've hit the jackpot," she cackles.

 **L.I.N.E.**

 **AN:** So, ugh, yay! New chapter! After one month of total silence! Hooray! To be honest, this should have been posted, like, a week ago—maybe ten days ago—but my dog—beautiful, beautiful Hunter—decided that it would be an _excellent_ idea to eat my USB. I won't regale you with the experience I had over getting the USB back, 'cause believe me you won't like it one bit, but hey! At least there's a new chapter, yes?

 **Where's that goddamn Devil Fruit.**

BRDJKBVCNEDS. I DIDN'T MEAN FOR THIS TO HAPPEN. I SWEAR! The last half of the chapter had been spontaneously typed by my accursed fingers! Originally, Garp should have made it in time to attend her birthday party, but then I was starting to miss Ace, and the wonderful **You Light The Sky** —check her out 'cause she's _diamondz_ , people. Fucking _diamondz,_ which is my ridiculous term for _fabulous!_ —and I started talking about ASL and holy fuck, why don't I just add Sabo to the mix as well?

It's kinda obvious already so I'm just gonna go out with it. Ace and Sabo will be appearing in the next chapter, so get your fans out, loves, and hold them up high to show your support.

And it's official. Different Devil Fruit, ladies and gentlemen. No matter how much I love the Gomu Gomu no Mi (I mean, unlimited stretching. S!Luffy will forever be tight and malleable *gets shot*), it's just not S!Luffy. I'll be putting it up on the description soon to warn off people in case that's not what they're looking for. Sorry to disappoint all those rooting for the Gomu Gomu no Mi *cries a river of tears*

 **Pairings?**

She's _three_. (lol is that a hint for a threesome, anybody? Psh. Don't be ridiculous.)

Aaaand, with out questions closed, let me once more thank each and every one of you for your support! All of your favorites, follows, and reviews are the _**best**_ **.** I'm thankful to have all of you lovelies with me on this journey. If I could, I'd be smooching your cheeks wet (there ain't anybody backing out of this one. _Nobody)_.


	10. Chapter 10

**R.I.P.P.L.E.**

The only warning he gets is an annoyingly itchy sensation crawling up the back of his nose. He knows in the back of his mind it's already too late, and his hand automatically goes to where his ribs are beneath his skin.

Ace sneezes, and pain immediately blossoms beneath his palm soon after, spreading like wildfire through his nerves, making him pause in his strides to swallow down the pain.

"I told you not to start up a fight," Sabo nags, having caught his subtle wince. "But didja listen to me? No. Of course not, and why would you? _Obviously_ those idiots had better things to say to you than _I_ had," he remarks sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

Ace winces, partially because of his bruised rib but mostly because Sabo had— _once again_ —hit bullseye on the target. "You heard them," Ace mutters petulantly. "They were jabberin' shit 'bout the bastard."

Sabo's features soften in understanding and sympathy, but another wince from Ace has him strengthening his resolve. "But you always _do_ this, Ace!" He exclaims, and would have thrown his hands up in the air if not for the sack he was carrying. "And you always get hurt in the end! You were outnumbered _eight_ to _one_ , you knew this, but you still went up to him and picked a fight!" He complains.

" _Four_ to one," Ace corrects, lips twisting into a crude smirk. "After all, I can always count on you to have my back," he lays it on thickly.

Sabo nearly trips on an overgrown root at his friend's comment from staring too long at him, but he manages to catch himself before his face meets the ground. "That's not the point!" Sabo scowls, his blush going so far as to travel down his neck. "You should know when to pick your own battles, Ace!"

"I don't _run_ ," Ace huffs. "A man doesn't run from his own battles, and I sure as hell ain't a girl."

Sabo rolls his eyes, but sighs out aloud, knowing that drilling his own worries into his best friend's thick head would prove fruitless today. "That kind of thinking will get you killed one day."

Ace says nothing, his expression darkening.

"Why do you even keep asking people that question when you know you'll always get the same shitty answer, anyways?" Sabo asks, gaze flickering to gauge Ace's reaction.

Ace gaze falls to the ground, his mind recalling memories of a girl ridiculously younger than him telling him _everything_ that he had wanted to hear from somebody— _anybody_.

He can't remember the girl's name—starts with an R, maybe—and the last time he'd seen her was months ago, probably a year by now, when she'd waved at him, but he can never really forget what she'd told him.

 _Everybody deserves to live_.

And because of that, no matter how many idiots tell him that Roger was the devil's incarnate and whatever spawn he had should be killed as soon as it was out of its whore of a mother's womb for the betterment of the entire world, Ace can't help but believe that there are more people like Sabo and that girl out there.

 _More_ people who wouldn't shove whatever blames they had on Roger onto him just because of some dumb blood connection.

 _More_ people who'd bother seeing the other side of the coin than the one that's been tainted and eaten up by rust.

No matter how pointless it is, Ace still believes.

Sensing the somber change in his friend's mood, Sabo is quick to drop the topic, but not without a little harping. "Fine. You don't have to tell me anything. But if you're not gonna stop, the least you could do is take better care of yourself. No use if one of 'em gets a lucky hit in and you can't use your arm. Worse, your life," he mumbles the last part.

Ace brushes elbows with Sabo—a silent gesture of comfort in his own way—and offers a half smirk. "'Course I will."

Sabo scoffs but says no more.

Luckily, they catch sight of the tree housing their hiding spot and after sharing a knowing grin— _talk later, race now_ —they both take off running with all their might to see who'll emerge victorious this time around.

 **L.I.N.E.**

From her perch three branches higher, she watches as the two boys chatter excitedly as they haul in their newest loot onto the thick branch where their secret stash resides within.

Her gaze lingers upon Sabo, taking in his greasy blonde hair from days of being unwashed and grubby clothes that are torn up at some edges. His top hat and goggles seem to be the only things he has that are in good condition, which makes her feel significantly sadder than before.

Children should be cared for and loved—not what _everything_ Sabo represents in her eyes. To her, he reminds her of the kids on the streets, the ones who had their choices ripped away from them just because they couldn't control the circumstances that had brought them into this world, and were taught that they were nothing if they were so much as _disobedient_ or _useless_.

Maybe, if his parents had been better—had been like _Makino_ or _Woop Slap_ or maybe even _Garp_ on his best of days—then he wouldn't have had any reason to run away from a life where he had it all to one where living in garbage seemed the better choice. He wouldn't have to scour for necessities, make decisions a child his age should never make, and force himself to mature and give up what little niceties he wanted to have.

( _She sees herself in Sabo. Strings the only things holding herself up high, controlling her every muscle as she maneuvers through life. On the other end are people_ who don't understand.)

She sees the product of human selfishness and manipulation in him.

Her increasing ire momentarily subsides when she sees that Ace appears cleaner, but that's only because he's wearing a dark-colored clothing, which easily camouflages whatever stains—blood, mostly likely—that have splashed onto it; otherwise, he might as well be as dirty as Sabo what with his equally greasy hair.

On the plus side, despite their lack of hygiene, both boys don't appear to be malnourished, which peels off any worry she has of either boy starving himself to the ground.

It's a good thing she'd sent Mamoru off a little while ago. Her monkey companion had the tendency to asphyxiate first and ask questions later, something she's sure wouldn't have left a positive impression upon Ace and Sabo.

She leans in closer over the edge, narrowing her eyes as if that would help her hear their conversation clearer, and peers at them.

"Here. We. Go!" Both boys exclaim as one, showcasing their most likely ill-gotten gains for comparison. It's clear who the winner is because whereas Ace frowns sulkily at his lose, Sabo grins cockily at his partner in crime.

"Heh! You may have won our race, but I won what counted most," Sabo gloats as he dumps his sack of beli coins to join their secret stash.

"Che, you just got lucky this time," Ace retorts, rolling his eyes. "Just you wait 'nd see. I'll be the clear winner."

Sabo smiles mockingly. "We'll see, we'll see," he jests, swiftly leaning back to dodge the swipe Ace had playfully aimed at him.

Her heart aches as she watches them whimsically quarrel and share roaring banter. The pirate with fire in his fists and the revolutionary with claws like a dragon's have always entertained her greatly when it was their turn to fight, but watching them, young and unknowing of the horrors outside of their already terrible island, act like _children_ is one that is _irreplaceable_.

"Well, it doesn't matter who wins, does it?" Sabo offers in appeasement. "We're gonna spend our Pirate Fund together anyways," he states as a matter of fact, smirking.

Ace smirks back—and she supposes they're sharing a look of agreement—but his eyes soften and he stops flicking through the wads of beli bill he'd nabbed from an unfortunate fool. "Yeah, you're right. It's been, what, more than a year since we started saving huh. Time sure flies," he remarks nonchalantly, gazing down at something miniscule.

"Yeah. We went through hell just to get this much," Sabo says, looking down fondly at their meager funds.

"We still have a long way to go though," Ace huffs, though his grin expresses his excitement. "A pirate ship doesn't come cheap, after all," he says before he and Sabo pour in what they've collected and securely placed the cover of their niche back into its proper place.

She blinks, realizing that _now_ would be the best time for her entrance, and swallows anxiously. Clamping down tight on her nerves, she lets slip the large, exhilarated grin onto her lips, and calls out to them.

"You two looking to be pirates?"

Their reactions are instantaneous. Both boys immediately leap away from the niche; unfortunately, it doesn't seem like they have yet to earn the sharpened reflexes or dexterity of their future selves, because Sabo slams shoulder-first into the thick trunk of the tree whilst Ace wobbles dangerously over the edge he'd clumsily landed on.

Her smile grows and she has to thin her lips to reign in her giggles. "You okay there?" She can't help but tease, because _c'mon_. This might be the only time she'll ever get to tease them for being adorably clumsy.

Sabo is the first one to get his bearings in order and surprisingly, _he's_ the first one to scowl at her as well. "Who are you?!" He demands, brandishing his pipe before him as he widens his stance.

Her eyes don't miss the way he slowly creeps to his left until he's standing protectively over the niche of their pirate fund, and she doesn't know whether to interpret that as an amateur's mistake or a professional's calculated one.

"It's not polite to ask a lady for her name when you haven't even given yours," is her answer, and she can't help but internally gush over how fucking _smooth_ she was, and maybe fret over how snotty she must sound like. Oh well. What's done is done.

Sabo's stance falters for a brief moment before he strengthens it. "Lady?" He asks, furrowing his eyebrows and deeply scrutinizing her. "You?" He says it as if he _can't_ believe it.

She is deeply and painfully insulted. " _Excuse me?_ " The pitch of her voice rises up a notch and she stares incredulously down at him. She may have forgone her usual clothes—a blouse of any color paired with shorts, or a dress if Makino was feeling impish—for a looser pair of shorts and a gender-neutral tank top, and she _may_ have waved off Makino's attempt to plait her hair, but did she _really_ look like a boy?!

"She isn't lying," Ace intervenes, looking up at her with a decidedly serious expression. "I've met her before. She's the one I told you 'bout. The shitty geezer's granddaughter who helped Magra," he explains.

As Sabo gaps up at her, she relocates her attention to the, well, _Prince_ of pirates. "So you remember me," she states, and she feels relieved because it meant that her words _must_ have penetrated his thick skull somewhat. "It's nice to see you again, Ace," she mentions, smiling warmly at him and, bravely, pokes fun at him, "I hope you know the difference between blood and Hawthorn juice this time."

To her immense pleasure, a deep, rosy red blush colors his freckled cheeks firstly before it extends to his ears and down his neck. "Shut up!" He barks, the pitch of his voice childishly high towards the end. "I was a kid back then!" He rails defensively, angrily crossing his arms at her.

She presses her lips together to repress the growth of her smile. "You still are," she can't help but point out. She doubts he's ever gotten a stiffy yet, and the day that he does is the day she'll laugh at his horrified embarrassment at _growing up_. "I'm not here to cause any trouble though," she tells them. "Promise. Whatever you've got hiding there isn't any of my business. I'm just here to deliver some birthday gifts," she informs them, patting the backpack sitting right next to her for emphasis.

Sabo perks up. "Birthday gifts?" He questions, sounding _delighted_ , which is just _devastating_ ; remembering the current circumstances, Sabo withdraws his excitement and instead puts on a mask of suspicion. "Birthday gifts?" He repeats, voice lower and full of distrust.

 _These kids are going to be the death of me_ , she thinks. _I am going to die a slow, slow death out of sadness._

"Yep," she confirms, flashing Sabo a disarming smile. "It's been more than a year since I've last seen Ace, so I thought I might as well bring a late birthday gift for him," she shrugs, acting nonchalant, even though deep down she feels as if there's some kind of parasite eating away at her stomach from the inside.

"Me?" Ace points at himself, blinking owlishly. "You know when's my birthday?" He asks with big, wide eyes.

She frowns. "I asked gramps 'bout it a while ago," she answers slowly, gauging his reaction. His features are neutrally blank so far. "Did he not tell you?" She asks, hiding her clenched fists behind her back.

"No," is his answer. A deep scowl twists his features. "He never tells me anythin' unless I ask."

"Well," she starts off, keeping a façade of sereneness on the outside to hide her internal fuming at how _idiotic_ Garp can be. "I can answer whatever questions you have for gramps," she decides.

Because Ace deserves the truth, at the very least. If he wants to know when his birthday is, then she'll tell him. Every child deserves to know the date of their own birth to celebrate it in their own way, and she believes that she'll be foaming in the mouth later tonight out of sheer and utterfrustration at the idiocy of a supposedly _Vice Admiral_.

She just can't get over how stupid Garp can be sometimes, because _six years_ —six years of Ace never once knowing his birthday. Six continuous years of relying on a date that might not even be his birthday because of the one out of three hundred and sixty-five chance. Six motherfucking years he could have spent having a birthday, _celebrating_ it in his own way, just… _missed_.

"Now we'll know who's the older one 'tween the two of us," Sabo crows quite happily, nudging Ace's side with his elbow.

Ace, worryingly enough, winces. "Ouch! Watch where you're poking me!" He growls half-heartedly, swatting Sabo at the back of his head, which eventually leads to a heated squabble between the two.

While they're distracted with one another, she takes the chance to shimmy down the tree to the forest floor where they will have plenty of space to eat and distance between herself and them. She busies herself with bringing out the packed lunch, sacrificing her own share for Sabo, because who knows when was the last time he even had a decent meal.

She prefers not to contemplate further on this, lest she become even more upset.

By the time she's done laying out the checkered picnic basket and positioning the lunchboxes, both boys have realized that their intruder had relocated down to the ground and had _food_ with her too.

They climb down like spiders—she shudders—and in the next minute, both boys are towering over her.

Sabo is all smiles—bright and big, the exact opposite of the hostility he'd shown earlier—whereas Ace is all pursed lips and dark glares, his dark eyes darting hungrily to the food laid before her.

They look like a pair of bullies ready to sack an unwilling victim in the face for lunch money.

In her opinion, it's _Sabo_ who is the scarier one between the two, but only because she's a bias and knows how he really sees her—danger, a threat, a liability he's willing to get rid of. The fact that he's able to scrounge up a face as gleeful and excited as that makes it even more _terrifying_.

Also, she is aware that she's the unwilling victim about to get sacked in the face.

"They're all yours," she swiftly informs them, fearing what Makino's reaction would be if she came home once again with bruises littering the expanse of her skin. "I made sure to bring extra just in case Ace wanted more." Which is a lie, but they don't need to know that. Sabo's going to have her share, but she doesn't mind. She's sure she's eaten better than he has in the past month, much less _year_.

Both boys still. Sabo halts the pipe he was just about to bring down onto her head, and Ace's hands just hover above her shoulders, ready to constrict her mobility.

She has all but a brief moment to process this all because _damn_ do these boys move quick. She breathes in shakily to calm her quivering nerves. "It's Ace's birthday gift," she explains before she bravely twists her body to look back up at Ace. "What are you waiting for? Dig in, birthday boy. It's all yours," she smiles tentatively.

The dark, determined look on his face falters, giving way for surprise to light up his entire features. "…Mine?" He murmurs after a while, sounding as if that very word rarely appears upon his tongue.

"You can share, if you want to," She suggests. "Food tastes better if you're eating it with a friend, in my opinion. Besides, it looks like you've got a friend right here," she tilts her head towards Sabo's direction to make her point.

She is careful to ignore the look both boys share over her head, instead steadily pouring her entire attention onto a dandelion swaying with the wind. The muscles in her shoulder involuntarily uncoil when she sees both Ace and Sabo settle down on the other side of the blanket from her, a sizeable distance between them and her.

She notices how close they sit; to the point their shoulders occasionally bump against one another as they reach for their own share of food with their own bare hands—safety in numbers, she takes note of, and a lack of hygiene as well.

"It's good!" Sabo exclaims after swallowing his mouthful of beef chops, expression considerably brighter and less wary than before. "What kind of meat is this? Pork?" He questions, looking at her directly in the eye.

It's a clear message.

 _I don't trust you. At all. But your food is good._

She beams. _I know._ "It's cow meat, actually. Foosha raises more cattle than chickens or pigs. We have the best venison and beef stew on the entire island," she elaborates, puffing her chest out in pride. She's a Fooshian and she's fucking proud of it.

"Huh," Ace grunts before swallowing. "Figures. You're the shitty old man's real granddaughter."

She can't help the snort that escapes her. "He really is shitty," she agrees. "He missed my birthday and got me a stuffed bear to make up for it," she accounts.

"At least you _got_ something," Sabo offhandedly remarks.

"A stuffed _Marine_ bear," she adds.

Ace and Sabo instaneously grimace, both looking as if they'd eaten something sour.

"Marines are dumb," Ace vocalizes his opinion, nodding with absolute surety as he stuffs his face.

"Most are," she can't help but agree. "But there are some out there who are actually kind of cool," she mentions, remembering a few particular Marines she would enjoy meeting. Smoker would most definitely be one of them—he'd always been one of her favorites of the Marines—Coby too because adorable characters are _adorable_ and she's sure she can never stay away from them. Fujitora is someone she's definitely looking forward to meeting; it's the Admirals and Sengoku who unnerve her.

( _Frost creeping across skin, freezing everything beneath it—systems, organs, blood, cells, life—and the man called traitor, abandoner, criminal,_ **friend** _reaches out, breathes one last time, before he shuts down._

 _Particles of light focusing on one, clear and precise point on the sole of a foot. Constructing, charging, flashing—then, in the fraction of a blink of an eye, a ray of light shoots out, crashes into its target, and promptly_ **devastates**.

 _Scorching magma—lava, one that takes, and earth, one that gives, combined to create something that both gives and takes. Destruction and Life—gouged straight_ **through** _a chest of a man the very embodiment of licking flames and scorch marks.)_

She shudders.

"What? You gonna be a Marine?" Ace asks her, voice shrewd and judging.

She smiles ever so bitterly, because as much as she wants to make her grandfather proud of her or prevent him from experiencing the pain of losing not one but two of his grandchildren to a life of piracy, she _can't_. The world is too messy and chaotic, and enlisting into the Marines who are currently the sword and shield of the World Government—the root of evil, the _corrupters_ , the _**thieves**_ —wouldn't do her any good.

"Maybe in my next life," she answers, because who knows? She's died once and come back again. Maybe she's trapped in an unending cycle of death and rebirth, and there's really no way out of it. It's a thought that unsettles her, fills her insides with dread, but one that she accepts. "Piracy is more my thing right now," she concedes.

Civil servant she may not be, but she could always accomplish her plans for this world as an independent body in her own way and in her own terms.

" _You? A pirate?_ " Sabo sputters out as Ace promptly chokes on his food.

Their reactions are hilarious and she smiles thinly as to restrain the large grin trying desperately to break free. "That's right," she confirms. "Because I'll become the next Pirate King."

" _EH?!_ "

She calmly pulls out her jug of water, pops the cap open, and takes a sip whilst she waits for both boys to digest her words.

"Pirate King?!" Sabo exclaims, sharing a surprised look with Ace who screams, "You?!"

"Why not?" She responds.

"Oi," Ace says in a snappish tone. "This ain't a game you can just drop out from whenever you want. Being pirates is different from _playin'_ pirates," he explains, slowly, just in case she wouldn't understand. "S'not somethin' you just decide outta the blue. Piracy is serious business and you can die anytime. Not somethin' like tea parties or anything you girls do."

She lifts her chin up a little higher, contemplating his words. There are a variety of responses forming in the back of her head— _I can do whatever I want_ ; _It's none of your business; I will beat that kind of sexist thoughts out of you, punk; I want to be free; I want to change this world; I want to give others the choices they deserve; I want to feel alive_ —but there's only really one answer that sounds right for her at this time and age.

She meets Ace's gaze and smiles ever so dourly. "I'm not afraid of death."

Ace reels back in surprise, whilst Sabo chokes on his food.

Pretending to be ignorant to their reactions, she looks up at the sky and notices how its once bright blue color has now bled into a slightly dark tint of orange. "Well, it looks like it's time for me to leave," she mentions as she stands up and brushes away the grasses clinging to her legs. "I promised gramps I wouldn't leave Dadan's hideout. Can't have him finding out I broke it, ne?" She looks over at them—takes in their ragged appearances for one last time—and thins her lips in worry.

She brings out three rolls of wrappings, a tiny box of bandages and a bottle of alcohol—the rubbing kind, not the drinking kind—and places them on the ground.

"What's that for?" Sabo asks, rubbing his throbbing throat.

She meets his gaze. "It's for you guys," she answers, before quirking her lips into not really there smile. "Us kids have to stick together, yeah?" She says, eyes softening as she gazes at them. "As much as I'd like to stay, I really have to get going. Enjoy the cake, guys," she reminds them—because it's chocolate and chocolate is fucking expensive in this world and should be treated like ambrosia—as she puts on her backpack and makes a move to leave.

"Wait!" Sabo, astonishingly enough, yells out.

She halts with a flinch. "Ha?" She echoes out her confusion. "Yes?" She asks him with a tilt of her head.

"You never told us your name!" Sabo complains.

Her gaze slides to Ace who, irritatingly enough, looks off to the side with his mouth full.

She's had enough young patients to know that _he doesn't remember her name, goddammit_.

 _Little shit_ , she thinks from behind a mask of a smile. "You never really told me yours either," she shoots back, and watches as an annoyed twitch appears on Sabo's right brow.

"…Sabo," the blonde-haired boy divulges after a brief period of awkward silence. "There. I told you mine. Now what's yours?" He practically demands.

She's never remembered Sabo in canon being this bossy. Or sassy. Or, well, just plain mean. _Maybe it's an early effect of being around Ace's angst for so long_ , she thinks. _Or maybe it's a fragment of the personality he had as a noble._

Setting aside this thought to critically analyze later, she refocuses her attention on the child right in front of her. "The name's Luffy. Monkey D. Luffy. Remember it, 'cause this won't be the last time we see each other," she informs them, already formulating plans for guilt tripping either Garp or Makino for permission. She wouldn't want to repeat the 'running away' incident again if it meant giving everybody in Foosha village grey hair early on.

"Take care of yourselves. Oh, and good luck on your Pirate Fund too," she wishes them as she starts walking off, waving her hand at them in goodbye. "Oh yeah. Heads up, Ace. Garp might or might not come looking for you but I'll try my best to keep him away," she warns him, looking over her shoulder to catch the sudden paling of Ace's face as he gives Sabo a horrified look to which the younger boy responds with a look of sympathy.

She can't help but smile as she looks away. She nearly stumbles on an overgrown root when she suddenly _remembers_. Halting in her strides, she states, "It's January one, by the way."

"What?" Both boys echo.

She looks over her shoulder one last time—sees the boy who will be men—and gives them her kindest smile as of yet. "Ace's birthday. It's January one. The mark of a new year."

And with that, she proceeds into the thicket of bushes; all too aware of the pair of gazes burning into the back of her head.

 **L.I.N.E.**

By the time Mamoru bursts out from the thick foliage of the trees and goes soaring in midair for approximately four seconds, she's learned by now to keep her mouth shut whilst she prays to every deity out there that the landing wouldn't break any of their bones.

They land with no affliction.

"Phew! Just in the nick of time!" She exclaims with relief, before she clamps her mouth shut out of her sheer panic as she scans the crowd of bandits—huh, they really did have more members—before her for Garp. "Phew! He's not here yet!"

"W-W-W-ha-" one of the bandits with a particularly nice goatee stammers out, dropping to the ground butt-first as he shakily points at her.

"Oh, I believe we haven't met before!" She dazzles him with a bright, harmless grin, remembering the manners drilled into her by an elderly woman long gone. "My name's Luffy! _Monkey_ D. Luffy! It's nice to meet you, Goatee Bandit-san. Can I call you GB? BG? Yeah, I'll just call you BG-san 'cause it sounds better," she rambles on, the screw keeping her mind intact just a little loose from having interacted with fucking _Ace_ and _Sabo_.

Best. Birthday. Gift. _Ever_.

Unbeknownst to the bandits gathered around, she is all too aware of how they reinsert their weapons back to their sheaths they very moment she mentioned that she was a Monkey.

The fact that Mamoru bares his sharp canines at them also helps her intimidation factor.

"Kid!" Dogra exclaims, bursting out from the crowd's legs what with how short he is. "You came back! Thank goodness you came back! Garp would've had our heads if ya didn't!"

"Are you hurt?!" Magra asks loudly, suddenly popping out of nowhere right beside her, making her jump with a small shriek. "Do you have any bruises? Any scratches?!" He asks, reaching a hand out to check her for any of the aforementioned.

A long, thick tail lashes out, solidly slapping the hand away from her. Before shecan hazard a guess as to what's going on, Mamoru's suddenly pressed up against her back, his tail waving ominously before her, emulating a snake ready to lunge at even the slightest movement.

Magra wisely pulls his hand back, complexion pale.

The clamor of bandits goes silent and still, not one daring to utter a single word or even twitch their finger.

She's positively sure that even _she's_ stopped breathing. Still, despite the fear curdling distractingly in her gut, she musters whatever courage she has left and brings her left arm up, reaching back to caress Mamoru's head, mindful of _how_ sharp his fangs are. "Shhh," she murmurs in her softest and gentlest voice. "It's okay, Mamoru. It's okay. They're friends. They won't hurt us," she claims even though she isn't so sure of it, but she has to calm Mamoru down _somehow_.

Mamoru leans forward, his right fang harmlessly grazing her left shoulder, and looks her right in the eyes.

No words are exchanged henceforth that moment, but there is a clear understanding that shifts into place when the suddenly heavy air that has settled in the atmosphere— _killerintentkillerintentkillerintent_ —disappears as if it has never been there.

Mamoru backs off with a huff, but he sits down beside her like a loyal companion.

With her heart still beating half as fast as it had been three minutes ago, she looks up at Magra and smiles placidly. "Sorry 'bout that. Mamoru's pretty protective of me, so he lashes out like that sometimes," she apologizes, bowing appropriately. "I'm fine though. I made sure not to get hurt," she informs them.

She thins her lips to hide her smile as she watches as all of the bandits breathe out a sigh of relief in creepy unison.

"Brat!" Dadan yells, and the very sound of her voice is enough to make the crowd of bandits split apart to create a path for her to surge through. The bandit boss stands before her, tall and broad, dark lips pursed, and glare stationary upon her much smaller form. "Don't go running off like that again! Garp would've murdered us if he found out that you—"

"LUUUUUFFFFFY!"

Everybody shuts up at that point; as one, they turn to look up at the sudden fluster of avian _fleeing_ for their lives from the area of trees rustling ominously.

"LUUUUUFFFFFY!"

The sound of Garp's second roar is motivation enough to send them into a flurry of activity; by the time Garp makes his appearance, the rest of the nameless side character plus BG have already scurried back into the house to cower fearfully in the back of the inventory room, and the bandits that Oda had given distinction to are now grinning amiably whilst sweating profusely.

Mamoru, no matter how much she'd pleaded the little bastard to _go_ , lies happily on the ground, tail swishing in a familiar to and fro manner that makes her nervous.

"Luffy!" Garp beams brightly, rushing over to pluck her from the ground. Impressively enough, he narrowly avoids the tail that lashes out to trip him by the ankle. "Glad to see you actually listened to me!" Her heart twinges in pain, but she maintains her façade of glee at being reunited with her grandfather after seven and a half hours of separation. "And it looks like you had some company other than those nasty bandits! Mamoru, right?" He looks at Mamoru as he inquires this.

She twists her body to get a good look at Mamoru's response.

Mamoru grins, baring his canines for the whole world to see; it is _terrifying_.

Whilst Dadan, Dogra and Magra step away from the monkey, Garp looks hardly fazed by the display of intimidation and instead grins broadly. "Heh. S'nice to know that you're not only all size but bite as well," he comments with a snort following shortly thereafter. "So, you ready to go see Ace, Lu?" Garp asks her.

"No need!" She chirps, all smiles and hidden guilt. "He dropped by a while ago and took me to meet his friend nearby and we had loads of fun! I gave them Makino-nee's food and they absolutely loved it!" She exuberantly cheers, half-lies pouring out of her mouth like that rainbow filter on Snapchat. "C'mon, I gotta tell Makino-nee about Ace and his friend! And Woop Slap-ojii and Teri-nee and Sheila-nee and Cocoi-oji and Ma-chan and Va-kun too!" She purposely blabbers.

"Ace has a friend?" Every adult currently within hearing distance echoes—she can even spot some of the nameless side characters peeking from the windows—and she can hardly blame them because, well, it's _Ace_.

Whoops. Did she mention that? Well, what's done is done, and she's sure it'd hardly leave any impact on the plot. "Yep!" She decides. "He's an orphan from Gray Terminal, and he's…" She trails off, trying to look for the right adjective to use. "…Really nice," _to Ace_ , she leaves out.

"Ace has a friend?" Dogra repeats in a quieter voice, looking mystified. "He has a _friend_?"

"Isn't that nice…?" Magra hesitantly voices out. When everyone turns to look at him, the large man shrinks in on himself. "Well, I mean, he must've been pretty lonely without anybody to play with here…so he must be pretty happy to have a friend now…right?"

The mountain bandits share contemplative looks, and she'd be blind to _not_ notice how the wrinkles near their eyes soften.

She thins her lips to hide the smile threatening to surface upon her lips since she's just so _relieved and happy_. Because, in their own little way, the mountain bandits _do_ care for Ace and have his interests in heart even though they have a bizarre way of showing their 'tough love.'

"BWAHAHAHA! Ace has a friend? Well! That gives me all more reason to go and see him!" Garp bellows out. "Gotta see if that friend of his can throw a right hook just as mean as Ace can!"

Panic squeezes her throat tight, and she immediately latches onto the skin of Garp's neck. "No!" She protests, tightly holding onto Garp's skin. "I want to go see Makino-nee now!" She demands, rallying her childish streak.

Garp winces—and holy shit is that a feat. She, a three-year old, has managed to actually _physically injure_ Garp after so many tries. "Ow, geez, Luffy! No need to hurt your grandpa!" He complains, unlatching her grip on him one tiny finger at a time. "Okay, fine! We'll go back home to Makino! Happy now?!" He huffs.

She's so used to the sight of it that she is hardly fazed by his pouting. Imagine that, folks: Garp the Fist, the Hero of the Marines, Good Equal to the Pirate King, is _pouting_. "Yes," she firmly confirms. "Lemme say bye bye first," she practically orders, tugging on his shirt to be let down.

Once the soles of her sandals touches ground, she bounces over to the mountain bandits. "Thank you for taking care of me." She bows, the look of pure gratefulness. "I hope we'll be able to see each other soon! It was fun while it lasted!" She beams delightfully at them.

Whilst Dadan and Dogra deliberate her with narrowed eyes, Magra kneels down and pats her head twice. "'Twas nice meeting you, Lu. You take care of yourself…And thank you."

There are several possibilities as to what he could be pointing out with his last words. Magra could merely be repeating his gratitude for helping him, or maybe he could be thankful that she hadn't left them to Garp's wrath—but, she believes, that it's none of that.

Because his eyes had softened ever so affectionately whenever Ace was mentioned, and she _understands_.

She smiles. "No biggie. I had fun anyways," she replies.

"Oi, Luffy," Dogra calls. "Don't go causin' any trouble, you hear? Us bandits don't need any more trouble," he grumbles, but that's just his way of saying goodbye and take care of yourself.

Surprising not only everyone but herself as well, she surges in to tightly hug Dogra because _dammit_. She can say Magra is her favorite bandit and all, but that title will always belong to that stupid midget with terrible fashion sense who found her in the jungle in what has felt like forever.

"I'll miss you lots, Dogra," she murmurs, briefly squeezing him, before letting go just as fast as she'd started it.

Ignoring Dogra gaping at her like a fish, she looks up at the large woman whose cigarette had fallen out of her gawking mouth and curls her lips upward. "'Til next time, old hag." She won't really miss Dadan all that much. They're not particularly close—funnily enough, she's hardly close with _any_ of the bandits but tomato tomahto—but her opinion of her has certainly reached a new peak now that she's comforted with the fact that Dadan _cares_ for the Ace in this time period.

"What next time?" Dadan sneers, looking disgusted by the very thought. "You ain't comin' back here again, brat."

Her eyes thin to the point that they resemble the slits of a snake's eyes. "Oh, I will, Dadan-san. Just you wait," she smiles. "I'll come back."

"Not by yourself you will," Garp interjects, voice firm and sharp.

She sheepishly looks up at him but doesn't answer because she _will_. She already has plans stringing themselves in the back of her head, contingencies locked up deeply in the crevices of her mind, and contingencies for contingencies because _dammit_ she won't allow another year go by until she sees him again.

A feathery touch on the back of her neck reminds her of the one she'll _definitely_ miss the most. Turning around to face Mamoru, she smiles sadly to express the growing sorrow boiling ever so slowly in the area just behind her heart. She wraps her tiny arms around his thick neck—wonders if he'll grow again the next time she sees him, wonders if he'll still be the same old Mamoru who strikes with his tail and loves human food, wonders if she'll still be able to climb his back—and buries her face into the fur of his chest, uncaring if its dirty or unhygienic or anything.

Because it's _Mamoru_ , and if she was a witch, then he'd be her familiar instead of some silly cat or owl.

The fact that he wraps not only his arms but also his _tail_ around her makes her want to cry so badly. She breathes in through her mouth. "This isn't goodbye," she promises. "It's just a _see you later_ , because we'll _definitely_ see each other again. It might take weeks. Or months. But it won't be a whole year like last time," she grips his fur a little too tightly, but Mamoru doesn't utter a sound of complaint if she's been hurting him.

Reluctantly, she pulls away from him.

Her biggest mistake is that she meets his eyes.

 _Don't go_ , his eyes plead. _Don't go_.

And she hates herself for not _listening_.

She pats him on the head three times, smiles sadly, then goes back to her grandfather's waiting arms.

The lump in her throat stays even after she's come home to a house that will never feel the same even if Makino is there to kiss her on the crown of her head and to hum a lullaby that's not _the_ lullaby.

 **L.I.N.E.**

This is the eighth time she watches Garp don on his Marine coat—the sheer size of it easily accommodating his large frame, and the unique black and red shoulder pads displaying his high rank to everybody who can see gleams after having been freshly shined the day before.

This is the eighth time she watches Garp get ready to leave, and she feels as if she's about to part ways with a piece of her heart.

She mulls over how painfully _easy_ it is to give away parts of her heart, especially when she knows fully well about the hurts and failures of mankind.

A heavy presence makes itself known by patting her on the head, and she blinks, looking up and meeting her grandfather's bright grin.

"Don't be sad now, Lu," he comforts. "Gramps'll be back soon before you even know it!" He promises, even though she doubts he'll be able to keep it. Duties _are_ duties, after all.

Apparently, her doubt is evident upon her features because she sees something in Garp's eyes spark to life—like a current of electricity suddenly spiking in frequency—before it crumbles down, doused out by uncertainty and ambivalence.

For the first time, Garp looks _conflicted_.

She hugs Admiral Sirius a little bit tighter, concerned for whatever is circling through her grandfather's train of thought.

After a long moment, Garp sighs, retrieving his hand from atop her head. "Luffy," he speaks, and it's the way he says it in such a monotonous voice makes goosebumps pop out from their secret hiding spots in her skin. "Would you like to come with me?"

It takes her several seconds to process his words—because what? What did he just say?!—but when she does, all she can do is unintelligibly gap at him with wide eyes. "What?" She asks in a small, quiet voice.

"You don't have to hide it, Lu," Garp says soothingly. "Makino and Woop Slap told me how you were when I was gone. I…" He hesitates, struggling to find the right words to use. "…I should've been here when Melissa passed away. On the day of her funeral. On the day of your _birthday_ ," he laments, and she knows that although the words aren't there, Garp is sorry for not _being_ there.

And it's enough. It's more than enough.

"I…" She's at a complete loss for words.

"You don't have to come with me if you don't want to," Garp placates her, having noticed her internal struggle. "Frankly, if that Makino-nee and Woop Slap-ojii of yours hadn't been so insistent, I'd never have let you out of this island until you were ready to become a Marine!" He reveals. "Besides, if you do decide to come, you'll mostly be locked up on deck and might have nobody to play with 'cause I'll be too busy with official Marine business," he informs her, looking deceptively thoughtful.

She knows a rouse when she sees one. He's trying to persuade her not to go, but it only leaves the opposite effect on her because the more he keeps telling _not_ to come with him, the more that tiny, insignificant part inside of her tells her to _go_.

She hesitates—because she has _plans_. Plans to stay here in Dawn Island, help around the bar with Makino, go fishing with Woop Slap, play with the twins, and to go see Ace and Sabo after a significant amount of pleading to Makino, but—

—but she has plans _outside_ of Dawn Island, and what better time to start than now? Especially when it's Garp—her grandfather, her protector, her loved one—who's offering the chance of a lifetime to her?

 _Think of the children_ , the emphatic part of her whispers. _There are others. Plenty of others. It's not only Ace and Sabo who've been wronged_ , it reminds her and she's suddenly all too aware of how _ugly_ the world— _any_ world—is.

But that's what pushes her to wrap as much of her tiny hands around her grandfather's large, meaty one. It's what pushes her to steadily meet her grandfather's dark eyes—the same color as hers; the same dark pools that leads into an abyss of what makes a Monkey so special—and makes her say,

"Let me come with you."

And Garp—the hero so admired, the father so misunderstood, the grandfather so loved—crumbles, because what else can he do in the face of his granddaughter?

She wonders what he's currently seeing in her. Does he see Dragon in the firmness of her lips and the stubbornness of her eyebrows? It is so painfully easy to assume so—to imagine a much younger version of her father, standing where she is now and looking at Garp with the same expression on his face—and her heart squeezes.

Here is a man who she will betray.

Here is a man who has been betrayed by his son and will be betrayed once more by his own granddaughter.

Here is a man who merely sighs in defeat but smiles ever so amusedly at her before saying, "If that's what you want."

 _No, no, no_ , her heart screams because she does not nor will she ever want to hurt him. But she smiles because that's the appropriate thing to do. "Yes."

And so, she leaves Dawn Island later that day.

Her little village of windmills gradually grows smaller as the waves and wind push the Marine Vessel, the infamous Melody as Garp boasts, farther and farther away, but she dutifully watches until it completely disappears from her sight because who knows when will be the last time she'll see it again.

Who knows when she'll see everybody again.

She fingers one of the slings of her backpack—the one Makino had stuffed full with her clothes after learning of her decision—and steels herself.

( _A young man, barely an adult, sets off from his island for the very first time at the age of seventeen._ )

This is when everything will begin.

( _A young girl, barely a child, sets off from her island for the very time at the age of three_.)

Strangely enough, she is _exhilarated_.

 **L.I.N.E.**

 **AN:**

*Haggardly emerges from the shadows of the room with deep, deep eyebags and a mess of a hair* As you can probably note from my appearance after, well, a month? Two months? since I lasted updated, school has been clawing me into its hellish depths. I mean, don't get me wrong, I enjoy school and all (surprise, motherfuckers) since I'm one of those kids who actually likes _learning_ (gotta know how to build an empire after all) and has just recently gotten out of her chrysalis and is now one heck of a social butterfly, but, well, the _papers_. Those damned _papers_. Honestly, I'd been sleeping on the couch for the past two weeks, no joke, just to get my stupid papers done, my notes written, my lectures powerpointed and blah blah blah. I am a ridiculously good student and I deserve a fucking medal like the rest of ya'll sweetlings.

Anyways, fortunately for both you and me, I managed to find time to squeeze in some writing (I honestly just binged written this today and scrapped the last one since it was shittier than this one) and BAM! Here ya go, guys. Your new chapter with a dose of plot, the sassiness of Ace and Sabo, Mamoru-chan, and basically S!Luffy being S!Luffy with all her abnormalities and quirks.

Hope ya'll enjoy it, 'cause I was kind of sketchy with this chapter. I hope I grasped Ace and Sabo's personality well, and managed to make Sabo a little meaner and rougher 'cause he's just recently run away from a lavish life. Just tell me what you liked and didn't like about the chapter (aside from the disappointingly stoic, hostile and short interaction between Luffy and Ace and Sabo D':)

 **Will Mamoru be a part of her crew?**

This is a question I've frequently encountered in the reviews. I'll be frank with ya'll and break ya'll hearts. Nah. Mamoru-chan won't be a part of her crew. He'll be left behind in Dawn Island since I have much bigger and much better plans for that island, mwahahahaha.

 **Devil Fruit?**

Okay. After so much stalling, unsure promises, and blah blah blah, I can finally announce with surety that her DF will appear in the next chapter and she will fucking eat it. Mark. My. Fucking. Words. I've been waiting for this for how long and I know you've been too. It'll be amazing—lol, I'm just kidding. It'll be shitty. In fact, it'll be the shittiest since she'll initially have zero control over it at first and will probably experience a few drowning incidents before she _gets it_ HAHAHA. No pain, no gain fellas. You start off weak and become strong. Ahhh! Character development~ How I love you so despite your frustrating givings.

 **Ace**

Man, you really love that brat. Don't get me wrong, I still love him, but trying to dissect his personality and write it off properly is _hard_ okay? I'm more of a jolly, lemme fuck you up kinda writer, but meh. I'll do it for you guys *fires off Haki arrows of love*

 **COVER IMAGE**

HAVE ANY OF YOU SEEN THIS? The wonderful and beautiful **Vixeona** draw _two copies_ of that. The first was of SI!LuffY with shorter hair and a lack of background, and when I told her about her mistakes, she made another copy and _corrected her mistakes holy fuck_. I mean—if I was her, I might've just said sorry to the writer and hoped that they still liked it but no. This artist just went _I'll do it again_ , and I love her so much. Guys, love her too.

 **Support**

Oh, ugh, wow. I just checked the status of this fic like, a _second_ ago and _wow_ I am just stumped. Because Over 900 favorites, 1K follows, and 200 reviews? Are ya'll trying to kill me with kindness? *Rubs the back of my neck* Oh geez, you're all making me happy and I feel like I owe you guys so much but, well the best I can do is thank every one of you for the support :D. You're the best readers a writer can ask for. To my PM buddies, you know who you are and I want you to know that you're a little extra special (I mean, what with the gifts I send you guys lol). To those who want to be my PM buddies, go ahead and PM me. I really don't mind. I'mma just scream into my pillow now. Adios.

With hug and kisses, CherryDrug.

SHOUT OUT TO **BELEAGURED AND THE BEAST** , 'CAUSE I'M FUCKING ARLONG TRASH TOO. AND **TWELVE RED LINES** 'CAUSE IS THAT AWESOME OR WHAT.


	11. Chapter 11

**L.I.N.E.**

" _You really have to take better care of your hair, Luffy," Makino murmurs softly as she gently threads her fingers through the fine strands that may as well be the very color and softness of a raven's feather. "It won't always be this soft and easy to braid once you get older. Remember what I told you?" Makino asks as she divides her hair and begins plaiting._

" _Yes, Makino-nee," she replies dutifully, sitting as still as she can in front of the antique vanity mirror and eyeing its shiny, silver interior with a critical eye. She hasn't had the chance to check out this world's economies and currency values, and hopefully she might get one during her little island escapade with Garp. "I'll take a bath every day, and brush my hair every morning and every night," she vows dutifully._

" _Good," Makino nods, content with her answer. "And don't forget to braid your hair once its dry, okay? You remember how to do the simple one, right? And_ please _, for the love of Poseidon, wear your dresses okay? If not, then at least wear one of your nice blouses. I want you to look pretty when meeting your grandfather's colleagues so that they'll never expect that the two of you are related," Makino confides in her with a mischievous smile._

 _She can't help but giggle._

 _The next few minutes are spent in comfortable silence, and she recognizes what kind of style Makino is braiding her hair into once it's almost done._

" _And... Done!" Makino announces as she inserts the last hairpin into place and fluffs up whatever remaining hair that has been left alone from underneath the woven braid-on-braid crown that Makino has created. "See? Don't you look nice with hair like this?" Makino asks, placing her hands on her tiny shoulders in order to rub soothing circles onto the exposed skin._

 _She looks at the mirror, gazes into it, and sees only a girl so painfully young with one of the loveliest faces she's ever seen. Skin that has yet to be unblemished by the vices of puberty but kissed ever so lightly by the sun, cherubic cheeks tinted with a faint coloring of red, lips so full and pink resting from underneath an upturned nose, and youthfully thick eyebrows that she knows she will pluck in the future._

 _She reaches out, meeting the tips of her reflection's fingers, and traces an upside down crescent on the area underneath her right eye, where a stitched scar has yet to be established._

Four more years _, she thinks to her herself through a quiet whisper._ Four more years, and we'll see _._

" _I love it," she tells Makino as she carefully traces the braided crown, wondering if she'll ever achieve such a feat but not at all minding if she doesn't. This is one of the most peaceful routine she could ever share with Makino—something that nobody but_ Makino _has ever done for her in her two lifetimes—and she'll cherish every single braiding session they have._

 _She jolts when a pair of slender arms encircle her small body, but gradually nestles into the familiarly warm chest behind her once she realizes it's just Makino hugging her. She allows Makino to cage her in, barely notices Makino propping her chin atop her braided hair, and lets herself drown one last time in everything that is_ Makino _._

 _Her nerves have been on the edge for the past three hours ever since she accepted Garp's offer, and it's confirmed that it's been evident on her face since then when Makino places her chin atop her head and whispers,_

" _Relax." Makino continues rubbing gentle circles onto her shoulder. "You'll be fine. Your grandfather'll be there for you. He'll keep you safe," Makino assures her. "Just…make sure you'll_ be _safe, okay? That means no running on the deck, staying inside when the weather's bad, and avoiding anybody that you know who_ would _hurt you," Makino trails off, a sour expression pinching her features. "The advice I'd like to give you is to have fun but then…I'd be lying, and, as much as possible, I'd like to avoid that," Makino admits._

 _Wow. She feels like a total jackass now._

 _Oblivious to the guilt eating away at the insides of her young charge, Makino continues on. "The world is a good place, full of beautiful and wonderful things, but the people inside of it are not…And it'd be best if you stayed cautious no matter what. Be smart. Use this." Makino gently taps the side of her temple. "And not this." Makino then taps her undeveloped chest, where her heart should be. "Because not everybody thinks with their heart when they have nothing left to lose, and those kind of people are the scariest because they won't think twice about hurting you."_

 _Makino holds her just a tad bit more firmly, as if under the assumption that hugging her tighter would persuade her to_ stay _, but—_

— _but she_ won't _. She can and she_ will _do this. She's thought about this for more than a year, pondering and pondering and_ _ **pondering**_ _until her head throbbed with an incoming headache, planned about this to the point she made_ graphs _and_ charts _and motherfucking_ timelines _to set things straight, and finally decided to_ do _this._

 _Maybe in another universe, she stayed, continued living the rest of her childhood and adolescence in Dawn Island where everything was safe and sound and under her jurisdiction of her knowledge with Mt. Colubo being the most dangerous place she'd ever know, and never having accepted Garp's offer._

 _Because maybe, in that other universe, Garp never_ offered _her._

 _Because maybe, in that other universe, she never met Ace or Sabo so early on._

 _Because maybe, in that other universe, she never ran away to Mt. Colubo._

 _Because maybe, maybe,_ _ **maybe**_ **,** _in that other universe, she never really_ cared _._

 _But this is_ her _universe,_ her _world; most importantly, this is_ her _life, and this time around, she'll make sure that this second chance of hers won't be one full of regrets and lost dreams._

 _She won't waste it._

 _(_ Won't waste the life that should have belonged to the embodiment of the sun. Won't waste the life when she'd wasted the last one.)

" _The hurting needs to stop somewhere," is all the answer she gives to Makino, because as Dr. Martin Luther King had once quoted, 'Hate begets hate. Violence begets violence. Toughness begets a greater toughness. We must meet the forces of hate with the power of love.'_

 _That's what the world—any world—has really been lacking. She knows that it is naïve, that it is merely wishful thinking, and that she must sound like a total idiot because_ yeah _, she kind of is one. A really big one._

 _But wishful thinking had the power to stop wars, build kingdoms, and inspire millions—and if all it takes is to sound like a total idiot in order to achieve any of those, then she'll gladly play the role of the fool_

(Wars have been started, kingdoms have been destroyed, and millions have been despaired all because of that same thing.

She's playing a dangerous game. She knows that. Frankly enough, it might even be a mistake on her part to be this foolish—but she's made hundreds of thousands before, so what's another one?)

 _Makino is silent. Unbearably so._

" _You're still a kid, Luffy. It doesn't have to start with you," Makino murmurs after a while._

 _In response, she merely turns her head to place a soft kiss on the back of Makino's hand._

 _It's the closest and sincerest apology she could ever give to her older sister as of now._

" _Okay," is her answer, but that doesn't mean she_ complies _with it. Empty words have come so easily to her. "Can I tell you something, Makino-nee?" She asks after a long moment of peaceful albeit slightly uncomfortable silence._

" _Hm?" Makino hums from where she's now rearranging the clothes she'd packed for her little sister. "You can tell me anything, Luffy," the bar owner beams._

 _She takes a deep breath, counts for as long as she can hold it, exhales as quietly as she can, and tells Makino._

 _She tells her about the beauties and horrors of Mt. Colubo, about the non-human friends she'd made, about the rude yet persistently kind bandit group that had helped her, about the two little boys at most three years older than her dressed in rags and covered in dirt, and how she had felt through all of that._

 _Through it all, Makino is silent. Silent and watching and listening._

 _When she's finished with her tale—because she's been keeping this in for too long—Makino is still silent and watching but no longer listening; she has nothing left to listen to, after all._

 _After a moment, an expression appears on Makino's face, and she is all too familiar with it._

 _Makino looks sad. Unbearably so. Like somebody had just kicked a puppy in front of her. "One day," Makino starts as she pulls away from the newly-packed bag and moves towards her. "…Bring them home with you. I'd like to meet them," Makino murmurs after a tentative pause, but she doesn't look disgusted by the very notion of inviting a monkey, mountain bandits, or even dirty children to her home._

 _Her throat involuntarily constricts by itself, and she feels that area beneath her heart be filled with—with what? With gratitude? With awe? With guilt? With monochapsis?—and she knows. Knows for what could possibly be the hundredth time that she does not deserve such an amazing woman as Makino._

 _She is despicable. Despicable,_ despicable, _**despicable**_ **, despicable** _ **.**_

 _It still does not stop her from swiftly twisting in her seat in order to give Makino the tightest and most emotional hug she can give with her small and powerless arms._

 _Makino startles at the sudden movement, but returns the embrace with nary a word of complaint. Instead, Makino says, "Thank you for telling me this."_

 _Her response is to clutch onto the back of her sister's shirt a tad bit tighter, and maybe in a manner akin to desperation. Her bottom lip wobbles ever so slightly, but she bites down on it in order to keep whatever sorrow she has left securely bottled up within her._

 **L.I.N.E.**

"Put your back into it, men!" Garp roars from the upper deck, looking over the railing and down at his men who are currently in the midst of doing one-handed push-ups on the main deck as if their very life depended on it.

Considering the consequences for failing to obey Garp's orders, it's to be expected. After all, _nobody_ would enjoy diving into the most likely freezing ocean in order to retrieve a 32-pound cannonball and then chase after an unanchored ship.

In fact, she muses from where's she's lounging comfortably on a foldable beach chair on the main deck, it would be _more_ expected from these naval soldiers to be laying down _more_ than their very own lives.

Who knew her grandfather had such high standards when training his men? If she wasn't aware of who exactly her grandfather was, she'd most likely be appalled by how merciless and inexorable her silly and thick-headed grandfather could be.

"Looks like Garp's in a good mood today, huh?" Bogard comments, for once neither completely nor sharply dressed in the ensemble that is his Marine uniform. Without the Marine coat and suit jacket, Bogard looks significantly less mysterious even with that silly hat of his that looks more like the product of a fedora and a cowboy's hat every time she sees it.

She admires the way his navy green dress shirt clings to his sinewy frame in _all_ the right places, broods over how he and every other person on this ship seem to be fitter than a fiddle, and sighs in the most miserable manner that she can over her pint-sized body.

When will she get as strong as them, she wonders.

The glass of grape juice on the table silently mocks her with its faultless existence, and she takes a moment to stare narrowly at it in deep frustration. She so desperately wants a drink, to get wasted or even _just_ a little buzzed, but she _can't_ because she's _three_ and she's so affected by that one time she tried taking a sip—just a sip!—of a customer's alcohol after accepting their offer, which had caused Makino to go all Freddy Krueger crazy over it and promptly alcohol-blocked her for another who-knows-how-many years when she pinned up a poster right outside of the bar that warned everybody who came in to _not_ let the little girl who lived there drink any kind of liquid with so much a drop of alcohol.

Her hand pauses, hovering over the page of the Geography book she'd borrowed from underneath Garp's desk, as realization just _hits_ her.

She belatedly wonders what _is_ the legal age for drinking in the One Piece world.

"Cease functions!" Garp suddenly bellows out through a bark. "Training's over for this morning, rooks. Return to your normal duties for now. Except for you, Reyes. I didn't miss you giving me lip while you were doing your push-ups," he snaps, looking deeply unimpressed. "Save that shitty attitude for when you become the Fleet Admiral. Nobody likes a smart dumbass. Now up! You've got some fetching to do!" Garp barks out a laugh at the end, delighting in the dreadfully frustrated look of his subordinate.

Garp effortlessly plucks—and she uses the word quite literally—a single cannonball from the bunch that had miraculously been stacked into a pyramid. "Take your position, Reyes!" He commands, grinning a malicious Monkey grin, as he bicep curls the seemingly light but realistically heavy weapon before tossing it up in the air and catching it with just his _fingers_.

She allows herself a moment to be wonderstrucked by her grandfather's display of strength and skill, before she puts on an apathetic expression as she reminds herself that this isn't the first time she's seen him do that.

"Alley-oop!" Garp hollers, clear excitement in his voice, as he chucks the cannonball. The object in question goes flying through the air, continues flying for a whole ten seconds in a beautiful arch that is now several meters away from the ship, before its angle dips and it starts falling.

The moment the cannonball plunges into the water, sending literal waves to rock their boat a little further from where the cannonball had landed, Reyes flings himself overboard and dives into the freezing ocean to retrieve it.

As Garp barks out his signature laugh at the curses that springs forth from what she believes is his favorite rookie, she listens closely to the bets being exchanged by the rest of the rookies who have yet to hit the showers and are now loitering around on the deck, waiting expectantly for Reyes to prove that _their_ bet was the clear winner.

She snorts. None of them would win. She'd give him around—

"15 minutes," Bogard interrupts her train of thoughts.

She looks up, one of her eyebrows quirked. "15?" She repeats, before she frowns. Her earlier speculation was that Reyes would make it back in at most 20 minutes, but if Bogard, a competent Marine who'd spent years in the service underneath her grandfather's supervision, had claimed so then… the only thing she can doubt is herself this time. After all, he has more experience about this than her.

True to Bogard's assessment, Reyes emerges from the water within the span of fifteen minutes, soaking wet from head to toe, and shirtless chest glistening with a combination of water droplets and sweat.

She takes a very brief moment to admire the view before she shifts her attention to his shirt, which he holds like a plastic bag where the cannonball rests within.

Smart. Using his shirt as a makeshift net in order to ease his journey back to the ship. No wonder her grandfather likes this guy—brawny, snarky, _and_ resourceful. A fun type.

As the group of rookie Marines either swear or boast about having lost/won their bet, Reyes stalks off to where she and Bogard are.

"Here's the stupid 'ball," Reyes blusters, wearing an impressively nightmarish expression as he shoots her laughing grandfather on the upper deck a deathly glare. He brings his arm back, prepared to throw the cannonball; however, he pauses, his gaze straying towards her, and his scowl deepens. Instead of throwing it as she'd expected, he hands it over to Bogard who accepts it with a curt nod.

"Good work," Bogard praises, and there's surprisingly an amount of emotion in his voice as compared to the monotone one he usually adopts.

Reyes nods back out of respect, eyes boldly meeting his superior's, before he stalks off towards to where the showers would be.

Once he's gone, she turns to look up at Bogard, a question on the tip of her tongue for his strange behavior. When she sees _the look_ on Bogard's face, the question immediately dies and she averts her gaze towards the bright blue horizon, pretending for all the world as if she'd seen _nothing_.

"Hold this for me, would you?" Bogard breaks the ice.

She has enough time to catch him depositing the cannonball right between her legs. Normally, it wouldn't be a problem since he hadn't placed it on her lap (or back, as Garp had one time to see if she could handle its weight) and the cannonballs were usually warm by this time of day due to having absorbed heat from the sun's rays.

However, after been submerged in the ocean for more than fourteen minutes—long enough for it to have lost any heat—suffice to say, there was a very cold and very wet cannonball pressing up against her inner thighs.

"Eek!" She squeaks at the suddenly icy sensation. In an effort to escape the cold, she'd toppled over one side of the beach chair whilst the cannonball rolls over to the other side where it lands with a heavy _**THUD**_. "Bogard!" She shrieks in anger and complaint, hurrying to right herself up and press her skirt down from it having _flipped_.

When she looks up to furiously glare at the man who she's come to gradually learn is a total jackass, her ire flares at the sight of him amusedly _smirking_ at her.

Why he—!

"ISLAND IN SIGHT!" A Marine soldier from the crow's nest bellows out through the megaphone, making her wince because he didn't have to say it so _loudly_ with a medium in hand.

Everything that has happened in the past two minutes is immediately forgotten, and replaced with the notion of an _island_. Her _first_ one. And _in sight_ at that.

She immediately throws all caution to the wind and hurries over to the railing. After hefting herself up over the edge just a bit to get a clear view of it, she squints her eyes in order to get a better view of it.

"Need any help there, Lu?" A shadow appears looming over her before the voice ever reaches her ears, but she's familiar enough with it to casually tilt her head back and smile ever so brightly at her grinning grandfather.

She nods. A moment later, she's sitting quite comfortably atop her grandfather's shoulders and peering into a telescope he wordlessly hands over to her.

She doesn't quite know how to use a telescope, so it takes a few minutes of struggling with it to properly adjust the view, but her efforts are all worth it when she catches a clear glimpse of her first island and her breath is quite literally stolen from her lungs.

The first thing she notices are the steep cliffs that composes the borders of the island. They tower over the largest of waves that crash against it, creating a perfect defense from not only foreign invaders but also from tsunamis.

She wonders what would it be like to throw herself over the edge of those cliffs, to feel the wind rushing past her cheeks, and to dive into the ocean that sings for her presence.

The second thing she takes note of is the large mountain—maybe even larger than Dawn Island's Mt. Colubo—that stretches over most of the island's territory from the center. She spots clusters of both urbanized towns and ruralized villages dotted across the mountain's expanse, and marvels at the bare trails that burrow deep grooves into the foliage that blankets the island's large mountain.

Trade routes, she belatedly realizes after a moment. Trade routes that signify the existence of an interactive economy between the island's towns and villages.

"Do you see it?" Garp asks and, once she pulls the telescope away from her eye in order to look down at him, there is a boyish youth twinkling in his dark eyes that looks misplaced on his aged features.

Garp looks happy, even if there is no reason to be.

"Yeah," she answers, before peering back into the 'scope.

"That island there is called Polestar Island. Beautiful, isn't it?" He asks her, and she bobs her head up and down in answer. "They don't have a kingdom like Dawn Island does, but they have plenty of Marine bases over there to make up for a lack of authority," he informs her.

"Why doesn't Dawn Island have a Marine base?" She asks purely out of curiosity.

"'Cause of those Goa nobles," Garp says, and the way he pronounces the word _noble_ sounds as if he's pronouncing something that isn't. "And they made a huge racket about it too. Something about upholding traditions and them being 'capable' enough to take care of their own kingdom," he snorts.

"But what if pirates attack Dawn?" She brings up, and wonders if the Blue-something pirates have already made base on her lovely little island. The very thought of them—dangerous pirates who wouldn't hesitate to poke holes through her body if she so much as made herself a threat to them—sends a sliver of fear to cowardly curl underneath her heart.

Interestingly enough, the very thought of them is enough to make the very blood that flows through her veins _boil_ as well.

 _("SABO!" Ace cries out to, hand outstretched so far as if he's able to stretch them far enough to reach his brother in all but blood._

 _But Sabo keeps walking. He walks, and walks, and walks. He never looks back what with the hand of his sperm donor on his back keeping him from turning around and doing what should have been done.)_

 _Not this time_ , she vows to herself silently.

"Pirates won't attack Dawn," Garp says with all the confidence in the world. "They know better than to do that. But if there're pirates dumb enough to even try, there's a Marine base in the closest island that'll be able respond to any call for help," he tells her as if he's trying to placate her worries. "Don't you worry, Lu. No bastard pirate will take you away. I promise you that."

"…If you say so," is her skeptical reply. "Any fun facts about Polestar Island?" She asks instead.

"Oh, I'm sure you'll love this one," Garp boasts, and she can practically feel him _preening_.

"Shoot."

"This is the island where Gol D. Roger was executed!"

…

She has enough grace to hold the telescope close to her chest before she so much as drops it out of shock. "Pardon?" She asks for clarification.

It didn't seem as if Garp had heard her, since he bulldozed on, "And guess what? We're going over to the town where Gold Roger was executed! Isn't that exciting, Lu?"

She has to reboot her comprehensive ability several times before she is able to answer. "Yes." She licks her lips, mouth and throat suddenly dry. "Exciting."

 **L.I.N.E.**

Once the Melody has been parked into one of the many private Marine ports on Polestar island, Garp and what seems to be sixty percent of his total crew—which includes a bored-looking Bogard—are quick to disseminate into five small-celled units.

The first unit is to accompany Garp on his annual inspection of Loguetown's Marine base.

The second unit is to accompany Bogard in order to stock up on artillery supplies.

The third unit is to purchase medical supplies.

The forth unit, the most important one, is to stock up on their food.

And the last unit, making up at least five trained Marine soldiers like all the other units, is assigned to be her babysitter.

Discontentment practically oozes off from her unit—and isn't that just funny. She has her own unit of trained Marine _bodyguards_. Isn't she just special—once Garp is done delegating the orders of 'watch over my grandkid' to them.

But it doesn't matter, because five minutes after the company has dispersed in order to follow through with their tasks, she is quick to slip behind a passing crowd of people and easily makes herself sparse.

She hardly pays any mind to the shouts of confusion and utter terror that had most likely come from her unit of Marine bodyguards, who'd previously huddled up into a circle in order to discuss _who_ exactly was going to tell her that it's be _better_ and _safer_ to stay on the ship than roam around the island.

She snorts, because exchange _fun_ for _safety?_

Bull. Shit.

 **L.I.N.E.**

Loguetown is surprisingly boring, in her opinion.

Although it is definitely a step up from her provincial Foosha Village, it isn't urbanized enough yet that it knocks the breath out of her lungs.

Yes, it may purely be one big mixed-development area, a big mash up of a commercial and residential district that impressively _works_ , but there are no factories chugging out smoke to pollute the air above, or skyscrapers reaching up to the sky for the entire town to see, or buildings easily surpassing ten floors high.

Heck, the most impressive technology she's seen so far in this town is most probably the air-conditioning in most shops _and_ a chunky looking beetle car that moved at least _ten kilometers per hour_.

She has yet to pass by a police station, which only highlights her growing concern over whether or not the Marines are the _only_ working law enforcement division for _every_ island. Additionally, no fire station has yet appeared in her sights.

On a slightly bright side, she's spotted an elementary school within this boorish town; however, any educational facility of a much higher level than that has yet to appear as well.

Feeling an incoming migraine due to mostly the heat of the sun, she scurries over to an ice cream stand and promptly orders five scoops of chocolate in a cup, which costs but a small fraction of what 250 grams of chocolate would cost back in Dawn Island.

She hands the right amount of Beli, which comes from the pouch of jingling coins that Garp had so kindly handed to her for her to wisely (splurge with) use, and fires off curious questions.

"Mister, how do you keep your ice cream cold?" In a refrigerator.

"Mister, can this ice cream van move?" No, it cannot. It is just a small, electrically-fueled stall that had been fashioned to appear as so since it'd seemed so popular in the Grand Line.

"How do you make your ice cream?" Imported from an outside source.

"Mister, do you know where the library is?" There is no library. _None_. But there _is_ a bookstore at the west side of town, just beyond the farmer's market.

Just as she's about to ask about any other educational facility or where exactly can she get a map or even a newspaper, her order has arrived and the man _shoos her off_.

He fucking shoos her off.

Forcing on her manners, she thanks him and scurries off to—

She pauses.

There aren't any available nearby benches left.

Squinting her eyes, she surveys the populated area thrice before she spots an available bench that is frighteningly close to a dark and narrow alleyway.

Normally, she wouldn't have dared. Her common sense would have rung alarm bells to warn her that this is not a good idea. But it is hot, and she is sweaty, and her ice cream is melting by the minute, so she rips off the alarm bells going off in her head and scurries over to the stone bench to sit her fat ass on it.

If any pickpocketer or kidnapper plan on targeting her, then they have another thing coming if they plan on getting in the way of her enjoying her much-awaited chocolate ice cream.

The first spoonful of heaven that rests on her tongue is positively sinful. There is no adjective she can find in her mushed up brain to describe the glorious way her taste buds just _explode_. The chocolate's rich palate curls around her tongue, floods her mouth with the most exquisite of flavor, and she's sure her heart's about ready to burst from sheer joy.

"Mhhhmm," she hums in pleasure, before taking another big spoonful.

By the time she's just about to dig into her fourth scoop of chocolate ice cream, she feels it. Something slithering into her bag in order to reach into its contents.

When she reflects about it later on, she supposes she should have reacted by calmly grabbing the hand rummaging through her bag and screaming with all of her might in order to attract every passerby's attention.

However, that is for later. Right now, she acts in what she believes is the most reasonable option.

She aggressively grabs the wrist of the person who had _dared_ to interrupt her chocolate ice cream time and, with her heart racing out of sheer panic and annoyance, smashes the rest of her ice cream into her perpetrator's face.

 **L.I.N.E.**

( _And this how her empire will begin_ )

 **L.I.N.E.**

"I am so, _so_ sorry," she fretfully apologizes, using her wet handkerchief to wipe away the residue of chocolate off of her perpetrator's face.

Her perpetrator—an extremely skinny boy who hardly appears any older than her with an explosion of dark brown spikes for hair and scarily sharp teeth that shouldn't even be scientifically possible—shies away from her touch, but a firm tug on his tank-top keeps him in place.

"'m fine," the street child snaps before he bats her hands away from him. He fixates a harsh glare on her, and she can tell that he's imagining her suddenly bursting into flames until all that's left of her remains is dust.

 _No, you're not_ , is what she desperately wants to say. _You're alone on the streets, stealing from people, and you look as if you hadn't had a decent meal in forever. Your clothes are full of rips, you're covered in grime, and you look like a mess._

Instead, she bottles up everything she wants to say, and beam a harmless smile to him. "Let me make it up to you then. How 'bout getting lunch, my treat?" she offers.

The boy stares at her with squinted, suspicious eyes.

She can't blame him. Earlier, she'd dumped her snack onto him; now, here they are, in front of the nearest clean fountain, with her offering to treat him to lunch after having him dunk his head into fountain's water.

She must be a total weirdo to him.

"Excuse me," a woman's kind voice calls out.

Suddenly, there's a hand on her shoulder, and she's forced to look up at the face of a young woman smiling down warmly at her.

She blinks. She doesn't know this woman. "Yes?" She asks out of politeness and with a smile, because why not? This woman looks nice.

"Is this boy bothering you?" Those are the first words that come out of the woman's mouth next.

It's enough to wipe the smile off of her face. When she glances over, said boy is glaring down at the ground, and irritation swells strongly within her when she catches sight of the woman's look of disgust for the boy.

"Oh my, are you all by yourself? Your parents must be worried sick about you! Here, come with nee-chan and I'll help you look for them, okay?" The young—guileless—woman extends a proposal that would have sounded kind to other children, but only sounds offensive to her.

As the young woman reaches out to take her in her arms, Luffy practically glues herself to the boy's side, wrapping her arms around his skinny ones and clinging on for dear life.

An icily cold smile appears on her face. "It's okay, _nee-chan_. I'm not alone. I have my friend with me." To prove her point, she beams brightly at the boy, who immediately ceased his struggling once he saw the barely constrained flames burning brightly in her dark eyes. "Right, _friend_?"

The boy cringes, having heard the authoritative tone in her voice, and swiftly nods his head several. "Y-Yes!"

The young woman does not look convinced, and argues, "Still. Where're your parents? Do they even know you're out here by yourself?"

 _Nosy woman,_ she vehemently thinks. "I don't think my parents would like it very much if I went along with a stranger," she answers back with a sneer, momentarily stunning the young woman. Taking advantage of a way out, she tugs on the boy's clothes with a snap of, "c'mon," and slips into the crowd, leading him through the small routes that the cluster of moving legs provide for them.

 **L.I.N.E.**

"Is here okay?" She asks once she guides the both of them out of the crowd.

"Huh?" The boy voices aloud, looking away from his detailed scrutiny of the crowd.

"Here. You know, to eat?" She reminds him, gesturing towards the dingy resto bar. It reminds her somewhat of Party's Bar, which is enough to send a pang of melancholy deep in her heart.

"A bar?" The boy mutters, sounding perplexed, as she drags him past the establishment's doors.

"Bars are your best friend," she informs him, pausing for a long moment to help herself up on the tall bar stool. She waits for him to do the same before continuing on, "The people here aren't particularly choosy with who comes and goes, so you don't have to worry about anybody kicking you out unless you cause any trouble for them." She turns to face the barista tending to one of the shop's many beer mugs. "Sir! Do you serve any food?"

The barista looks over his shoulder, and the only reaction he shows of being surprised by the presence of children in the bar is a raised brow. "Pork or fish?"

"Fish for me," she says, before looking towards the boy. "How 'bout you? Don't worry. I'm paying, remember? Take advantage of it," she sends him a disarming smile.

The boy's eyes are impossible wide. "B-Both then," he stumbles on the words he mutters.

"Your food'll be ready in twenty minutes. Don't break anything you can't pay for," the barista warns them before heading to the back where the kitchen is mostly likely at.

As the back door slams to a shut, she realizes something. "Oh yeah. I never really told you my name, huh? Just call me Luffy. Everybody I know does," she introduces herself, Monkey smile on her face, as she sticks her hand out. "You?"

The boy regards her hand warily as one would regard a dog. Would it be soft and friendly to touch, or would it snap its jaws and draw blood? In the end, he takes her hand. "Bart," he curtly answers.

She squeezes his hand firmly before letting it go. "You don't look like a Bart," she says, because the image that comes to mind when she hears the name Bart is the asshole of a kid on the Simpsons show.

He was her favorite character.

The Bart—the one standing in front of her—looks nothing like a Bart; even if he colored his skin yellow.

The street boy frowns. "Well what kind of name is Luffy?" He sneers with a roll of his eyes. "My name is, is—It's _normal_ ," he retorts.

She props an elbow on the counter and places her chin atop the back of her hand. "And so?" She asks with a snort, eyebrow arched. "Normal's _boring_. Besides, at least _I_ look like a Luffy, ne?"

She grins a grin full of teeth, and she knows she looks menacing.

Bart flinches; just as she's wondering if she's taken her teasing a little too far, the bartender returns with his hands full of food and places it before her and Bart.

"Thank you. How much do I have to pay?" She sends the bartender a quick smile before she fleets her gaze to Bart, who's already drooling at the large plate of food set before him.

The bartender gives her a price, and she pays for it without so much as a peep. It's a bit more expensive than the prices she's used to in Foosha, but Loguetown is much more advanced in industry that its agricultural sector might be a bit lacking. Or, it could be because the establishment's owner has marked up the prices a percentage too high.

"Itadakimasu," she says out of respect and enculturation. She still doesn't understand what kind of culture Foosha has, but it appears to have a blend between a Japanese and European one. She's just about to dig into her food when she catches sight of Bart looking strangely at her.

One explanation of what Itadakimasu means, why do people even do that, and how it has something to do with beliefs and religion, Bart is murmuring a meeker, "Itadakimasu," before he downright attacks his food with a kind of vengeance that uneases her.

"Eat slowly, or you'll vomit it all out," she rebukes him, placing a hand on his wrist. "You don't have to eat it all at once. Your stomach might not be able to handle it. Besides, you can bring home whatever leftovers you leave, so don't force yourself if you're full," she details to him.

Bart gives her a withering glare. "You talk too much," he huffs in between mouthfuls.

She laughs.

When they're done eating and out of the bar, Bart turns to face her. His stomach is slightly bloated with food and in his hand is his own doggy bag—where a combination of his and her leftovers are plus two extra sets of meals that do not need a refrigerator rests.

She knows that, in the future, she'll look back on this day. This day where a street boy had asked her, "why? Why do this?" and she'd reply with a simple, "Because I wanted to."

Maybe she should have said something cooler—something harsher and more _real_.

Like, because you were hungry and someone should've fed you, but since nobody did, I decided to be that someone.

Like, because you're just a kid and kids should not be stealing at this age.

Like, because nobody deserves to be seen or treated as dirt like that lady had treated you, and I wanted to show you that not everybody is like that. Mean and bad and cruel, instead of nice and warm and so full of kindness that people are capable enough of.

She doesn't say any of those things—she talks too much, after all, so maybe she should tone it down a little—and instead waves goodbye at Bart until he disappears into a dark alleyway

 **L.I.N.E.**

 _Puerto Princesa_ , the sign reads. _Puerto Princesa_ in black calligraphy against a lilac-painted wooden board with Morning Glories in full bloom hanging off of the vines wrapped around the chains of the board.

She spots the sign just as she rounds the corner, having initially been fully content to return to the ship since her hunger for both food and adventure have been sated for the day.

Despite its oddity in color combinations, it's a fetching combination of colors. Its uniqueness is enough to make her turn her head to catch a short peek of the store's wares.

She stops.

"No way," she breathes out in a tone of wonderment and surprise. Nearing the store, she places her palms against the cool glass of the store's windows and promptly stares at the paintings, the assortment of wooden and metal figures, and various knick knacks of monuments that _belong in her world_.

France's Eiffel Tower in all its metal glory of thirteen inches reflects a beam of fluorescent light from above onto her face. She's momentarily blinded by the flash of green that fills her vision, but that's not enough to stop her from her staring.

India's Taj Mahal, Brazil's Christ the Redeemer, Egypt's Pyramids of Giza, Italy's (or Dressrosa's, the logical side of her brain whispers) Colosseum, India's Taj Mahal, Cambodia's Angkor Wat, Moai's Easter Island Statues, and so many more.

These are her old world's monuments, and she can hardly believe that she's seeing them again in _this_ world.

Quickly, she scurries into the humbly small shop. Bells chime from above her head, and she winces at the sudden noise as she closes the door behind her.

Her expectations of the _Puerto Princesa_ being a merchandise store is immediately overwritten once she spots the dozens of rows of shelves filled to the brim with books and other text materials.

It's a bookstore; quite an old-looking one too, judging by the antiques littered atop whatever desks there are within the store.

"The store's closed!" A hoarse voice announces loud enough to make her ears ring a little. An elderly woman wobbles out from a hallway, her silver hair looking more like silver wires pulled up into an unrelenting bun, and glassy eyes behind a pair of glasses with a string of beads coming from each down from each side to hang loosely around her neck.

Quick as a predator after its meal, she lunges towards the elderly woman. Gripping the fabric of the elderly woman's long skirt, she looks up with wide (crazy) eyes and demands, "Where did you get your knick knacks at the display?!"

Because if she's correct, and those displays at the front aren't just an artist's coincidental creations, then this might be her first and _only_ clue to the reason behind her sudden reincarnation into this world.

And the answer to the unspoken question if whether or not she truly is the only off-worlder in _this_ one.

 **L.I.N.E.**

"Thank you," she gratefully says as she accepts the tall glass of iced tea from Emilia, the recently-introduced owner of _Puerto Princesa_. "I'm really sorry for intruding on you, but…"

"It's fine," Emilia interrupts her, taking her own seat on a chair from across the table separating them. "You're looking for answers, I'm sure of," Emilia suddenly says as she swirls her teaspoon into her grey earl tea.

She nods, unable to free the words that traps itself in her throat.

"You don't belong in this world, I'm sure of," Emilia says it as if she was pointing out something. "Fact is, this isn't even your first life, I'm sure of?"

"I…yes," she reluctantly admits, because there's no use in hiding it anymore from somebody who just seems to _know_. "A-Are you?" She internally berates herself for stammering, but can't really blame herself because this is the first time she's ever met somebody from her old world and the fact that she has only chills her to the very core at the possibility that this might not be the last time she'll ever meet somebody not of this world.

"No," Emilia answers.

She nearly drops her glass; her reflexes are the only ones that safely catches the glass from shattering to how many shards on the wooden floor.

"What," she can't help but say dumbly.

"This is my first life. Well, the only one I'm aware of. It's my grandmother who's like you, I'm sure of" Emilia continues with barely a blink, but the smile that curls her lips upwards is enough to express her amusement over surprising her.

"Your grandmother?" She parrots, and squints her eyes at Emilia—a clearly 70-something year old woman—and frowns.

"Oh, she's dead right now. Buried eight feet underground in Loguetown's Adriano Cemetery, I'm sure of. She'd have turned you away if she was still alive. You were quite rude. Suddenly grabbing me and demanding for answers. What a rude child, I'm sure of," Emilia tuts at her, before taking a sip of her tea.

"I—sorry," she sheepishly apologizes, unable to resist the elderly woman's charms. There's just something about Emilia that makes her bend and feel the need to comply to the old woman's complaints. It's probably because of her elderly status—something that Garp hasn't yet achieved what with how youthful he behaves.

"Just don't do it all the time, dearie. Anyways, as I was saying, my grandmother's just like you. An off-worlder. Came to this world after…dying, I'm sure of?" Emilia looks towards her with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes," she confirms. "I died in the…," she struggles to find a term. "…Old world. And then woke up as a baby in this one."

Emilia tilts her head, and regards her in the same way a hawk would do a rat. "Curious," she comments. "My grandmother didn't wake up as a baby like you did. In fact, after dying, she suddenly found herself falling from the sky."

"F-Falling?" She stutters out, paling significantly.

"Yes. Falling. She fell right into the ocean, I'm sure of. She nearly died that day. You must've been lucky to wake up in a new body." _Lucky…_ She hadn't really thought of her predicament as lucky; however, considering the current source of comparison, she supposes she _had_ been lucky to wake up in the body of an infant instead of falling from the sky. "How did you die, exactly? My own grandmother died from blood loss, I'm sure of. She was stabbed in the chest by somebody breaking into her house" Emilia says, discretely looking down at her own drink.

"I died from blood loss too," she answers in a quiet voice, staring down into the deep, dark brown pool of her own drink. Only a quarter of it had been finished. "I was in a car accident. The crash sent one of the materials in the ambulance through my stomach. It was painful at first." Obnoxiously so. She still can't shake off the feeling of her kidney being punctured, of half of her stomach just _taken away_ from her like that. She still woke up some nights with cold sweat. "Everybody else was unconscious. By the time help arrived, it was already too late. I'd lost too much blood. Everything was numb. I'd…died."

"…I see. I'm sorry for the loss," Emilia says, more out of courtesy than respect.

"It's fine. I got over it." Mostly. "Could you continue on about your grandmother?" She requests after taking in a slightly shaky breath. Chills were starting to creep up her spine, and she steeled her heart because what else could she do? She would be subjective and emotional once she got back on the ship.

"Of course. Luckily, my grandfather was there that day and rescued her. He nursed her back to health, and even took care of her afterwards. You can guess what happens after that," Emilia enigmatically smiles.

Grandmother. Grandfather. It was just like a fairy tale story. "They got married and had kids, and their kids had grandkids too," she deduces.

"Correct," Emilia confirms with a nod.

"And she was the one who made the knickknacks on display?" She guesses.

"Correct again," Emilia confirms; this time with a smile. "She made those for my mother and uncles. My grandmother was fond of anything artistic. Stories, paintings, sculptors, flower arrangements. Anything, really. She would regale my family with her stories, and draw and make things from her old world to give us a better image of it. Emilia points at a painting hanging on the wall. It was a simple sketch made with a charcoal pencil.

It was a charcoal sketch of an airplane—something that hasn't yet existed in this world.

"Wow," she can't help but breathe out. "Your grandmother sounds amazing."

"She was," Emilia agrees. "My grandfather was a lucky man. My grandmother too. I've never seen a couple as happy as them," she murmurs, running a finger across the silver band around her finger.

She doesn't make a comment about the ring. Instead, she asks, "Am I the only one who's come here asking about those knickknacks out front?" She's been itching to know if she's the only one.

Emilia meets her gaze, the sorrow in her eyes fading away; only to be replaced by sympathy. "Yes," the elderly woman answers.

She doesn't know whether to feel relieved or disappointed by that; yet, she feels as if a heavy weight had been taken off of her shoulders. Days of wondering whether she was the only off-worlder in this world had finally been answered, and she feels a sigh escape her lungs.

"I see," she murmurs, before quenching her suddenly dry throat with a sip of iced tea. "Thank you."

An awkward silence settles in the atmosphere in the room.

Emilia breaks it once she finishes her cup of tea. "Wait here," she commands as she suddenly gets up and toddles towards a shelf.

She'd have obeyed Emilia's request if not for the fact that the elderly woman was trying to push a shelf against the wall. "Um…do you need help?" She awkwardly asks, unsure of how to proceed.

"No, no! I'm fine, I'm sure of! These bones of mine are just a little rusty from old age, but I still have it in me! You just stare there and wait, okay?!" Emilia orders, giving her a stern look.

And she does. She sits there, waits, and watches as the elderly woman struggles to push the shelf. She feels a little cruel for just watching, but Emilia _had_ told her to do so and she felt a little more scared of the consequences of disobeying Emilia.

Finally, Emilia pushes aside the shelf where, conveniently and suspiciously, a small safe is embedded into the wall.

Her eyes widen a bit at the revelation.

Emilia turns the dial to its proper sequence. A click resounds in the room, and the safe's door creaks open. Emilia brings out something covered with a cloth blanketed with dust.

She sits on the edge of her seat, curious and ready to take flight just in case it's a weapon. A million thoughts are running through her mind. She knew she shouldn't have just so easily revealed practically everything about herself. _Run, run, run_ , the logical part of her brain blares out.

Emilia sets the object on the table, not even bothering to close the safe or put the bookshelf back in its proper place. The elderly woman takes a seat across from her.

"This," Emilia starts off dramatically, placing a hand on the cloth covering the object. "Belonged to my grandmother. It's one of most precious things she left behind after she'd died. I found it in her garden one morning, and believed that it would be better off keeping it hidden than selling it."

She furrows her eyebrows. Garden? Why on earth would somebody hide something—especially something precious of theirs—in a garden? "O-kaaay," she answers unsurely.

"Before my grandmother decided to marry my grandfather and settle down and have a dozen children—oh I'm just kidding. She only had three. Dear old granny would have cut off my grandpa's pecker if they had more than five—she went out of an adventure with him. Traveled all of East Blue, they did. Never made it out on the Grandline since it was too dangerous and they were only two people," Emilia told her.

With her interest enraptured by Emilia, she eagerly leaned in forward.

"On one particular island, surrounded by storms, she found this." Emilia patted the covered object.

She wondered if it was a weapon, but she's never seen a weapon so oddly shaped.

"My grandfather wasn't fast enough to stop my grandmother from taking a bite out of it," Emilia sighed out, but there was a fond smile on her face.

A bite? Why on earth would take a bite out of—oh.

"Oh," she breathed out, already knowing _what_ exactly was underneath that cloth.

"Oh, exactly," Emilia chuckled.

No wonder Emilia found it in the garden. Devil fruits manifested in the fruit (or vegetable?) nearest to their owner when they died. Emilia's grandmother must have died near the garden, most likely the house where she lived and raised her kids and grandkids in.

"I don't have a particular use for it, and I don't want any of my children or grandchildren using it either. Devil fruits are named _devil fruits_ for a reason, I'm sure of. The fruits of which the ocean placed humanity's sins within, submitting any person who consumes it to never be able to survive within Her world," Emilia sighs out loudly. "You can have it, if you want. My grandmother would've most likely approved of it. You're comrades, after all," Emilia smiles wryly, looking as if she'd just told the best joke in, like, _ever_.

 _You can have it_. The words echo in her mind several times as she stares at the clothed object. As if her body has a mind of its own, she takes hold of the object—slightly surprised to feel something hard and solid underneath the cloth—before drags it towards her.

Tentatively, she pulls the cloth off.

A light blue, transparent jar meets her gaze. It looks like a mason jar; a very pretty one at that with carousel horses molded onto the glass's surface. It'd make a lovely flower vase. Makino would love it.

She easily twists the lid open.

When she peers into the jar, she's met with the sight of a small fruit with a long stem poking out from its tip.

Hesitantly pinching the step with the pads of her thumb and forefinger, she pulls the tiny fruit of its vessel and inquisitively examines it.

It's no Gomu Gomu no Mi that's for sure. Although the Gomu Gomu no Mi and this devil fruit were similar in shape, that's where the similarities ended. Firstly, this devil fruit was too small. It fitted just right in the small palm of her small hand. Secondly, the color schemes were too different. Whereas the Gomu Gomu no Mi was a bizarre shade of purple, this one was black, making it look more rotten than edible, with tiny swirls of a variety of colors on it.

It looked like fireworks against a dark sky.

It looked like death reincarnated into a fruit.

"Is this still edible?" She questions.

"Who knows," Emilia shrugs. "All I know is that once you eat it, you gain the fruit's power."

"And what exactly is its power?" She inquires, because ain't no way in hell she'd eat a devil fruit she doesn't know the powers of.

Emilia smiles enigmatically. "Eat it then," she urges. "My grandmother found it quite convenient to use for all sorts of situations."

She frowns because that hardly answered her question.

Still, she turned back to examining the fruit with inquisitive eyes.

An unknown devil fruit with unknown powers to her. Hardly seemed right for her to eat it because who knows; if she _would_ eat this fruit, there's like a fifty percent chance she'd get a useful power.

Besides, _Luffy_ already has a devil fruit he's destined to eat. The Gomu Gomu no Mi. She already has a substantial amount of knowledge over how to utilize that fruit of his and even make a few moves of her own to take down any future opponents in the future.

She's Luffy, and Luffy's her. What's Luffy's is her, and what's hers if Luffy's. If the Gomu Gomu no Mi is destined for Luffy, then it must surely be destined for her as well.

Just as she's decided to put the fruit down, Emilia's voice reaches her ears.

"It's yours," the elderly woman says, and the way her voice distorts into something wise and aged has her flickering her gaze to meet the elderly's woman's. "It was obviously meant for you. You wouldn't have come into this store in the first place if you weren't destined to."

 _Mine_. That one, greedy, possessive word bounces off against the walls of her mind. _Meant for me_. She looks down at the fruit, suddenly finding herself hypnotized by its different colored swirls. _Destined for me_.

 _That's right_ , she thinks. Luffy is his own person, just as she is her own person. They may have the same body (despite the difference in gender), but they were different characters altogether. She's isn't just Luffy, and Luffy isn't just her. They're both _more_ than that.

Luffy has his own adventure ( _male, innocent, charismatic, charming, powerful, seventeen, destined to become Pirate King_ ).

She will have her own ( _female, once-lived, determined, passionate, tricky, three, grabbing destiny by the hand to lead it to an alternative path)_.

Luffy's made his own decisions ( _Gomu Gomu no Mi, dismembered arm, beaten nearly to death, saving nakama he barely knew, challenging the World)._

She will make her own decisions ( _I'll challenge the world itself_ ).

It's her rashest decision as of yet, but that's what she's recently so good at. Making the rashest of decisions and never once (okay maybe just a little) regretting any of them.

 _Thank you_ , she thinks to Emilia, to Emilia's grandmother, to Luffy, to herself. She doesn't even know anymore.

She opens the mouth and consumes the small fruit whole, plucking off the stem just as her lips close upon the entirety of the fruit.

The minute her teeth punctures into the fruit, her face twists into an expression of pure and utter disgust.

No devil fruit-user exaggerated on the horrid taste of their fruit; in fact, their reactions were quite _lacking_.

" _ **EUUUUUUUUUUUUGH!**_ "

 **L.I.N.E.**

Inhumane.

That was the only word Luffy could use to describe her fruit—the _Kakki Kakki no Mi_ , a voice trembles from within her very soul. It shakes her physically, mentally, and emotionally. It makes her want to vomit, and she already has so on the floor that she's just finished cleaning up.

It was just utterly _inhumane_. She was right—it _was_ death reincarnated into a fruit. She's surprised she hadn't lost consciousness the second after she forced herself to swallow it down.

"Thank you for everything," she bows to Emilia, as is customary. "I'll drop by again once I find the time to do so." _Or if I find the courage and time to set sail from Dawn Island earlier than Luffy had_ , she thinks.

"Hah. I'll be dead by then, I'm sure of," Emilia laughs, making her flinch. "It's the thought that counts though, so thank you. Here. Have a cinnamon roll. It'll erase the devil fruit's taste," Emilia teasingly offers a paper bag to her.

She flushes but takes the proffered gift. The devil fruit really _was_ inhumane. A thing created by the ocean, she was sure of. The ocean must not know how to cook, or was just damn terrible at it.

"So? Any changes?" Emilia asks as she leads her out of the bookstore.

"I feel weird." Weird is an exaggeration. She feels as if there's something other than blood flowing through her veins. Like a dying flame, or a melting ice, or maybe even an electrical current being smothered by rubber. She doesn't know how to explain this feeling. She feels light and heavy at the same time, like there's an invisible force pushing her from above and below.

She doesn't feel pain; for that, she's grateful.

"That's good," Emilia breathes out a sigh of relief, as if she'd been expecting her to spontaneously combust, which actually worries her. "You be off now. That grandfather of yours must be worried sick of where you are."

Oh yeah, she forgot about Garp. "You're right. Thank you for everything, again. It was fun," she smiles up at Emilia. She's never felt an instant connection such as this with somebody else before; she's happy to have experienced it for once.

She bows once more to Emilia, bids her goodbye for what she hopes isn't the final time, and walks back to the ship.

 **L.I.N.E.**

She makes it back to the ship, even humming a jaunty tune she'd heard once from Woop Slap.

She doesn't make it back on the ship.

A Marine soldier finds her collapsed on the walkway, and nearly froths in the mouth at the thought of having to face _Garp_ and explain to him how and why exactly is his granddaughter _unconscious_ and running a _high fever_.

 **L.I.N.E.**

 **AN:**

*Creeps out of a hole with a pair of dark brown mouse hair poking out of my hair* E-Eto. H-Hello everybody, a-ahahaha. It's been quite some time now. *Checks the calendar where the last page was August 2017 and hastily rips out the pages until its February 2018* I don't really have a plausible excuse since all I've done these past seven months is breathe, study, eat, celebrate the holidays and read fan fiction. I should've been writing fan fiction instead of reading it but whenever I opened my laptop, my instincts and reflexes just made me ignore the Strikhedonia folder that's practically in the center of my laptop screen and instead clicked open the Kill Me folder where all of my papers are in *cries a river of Styx at the reminder of the hell I had to go through*. Again, I'm really sorry for the long wait ahaha.

Anyways! Forunately for both you and me, this whole day was my only rest day in a while (I spent my holidays and birthday doing _papers_. How nerdy am I), and I spent it fruitfully by, once again, scrapping the original plans for this chapter and writing an entirely new one all in one day. I've been getting faster in typing recently and coming up with scene ideas; hopefully the next update won't be half a year later so expect one within March? April? Basta, just within those months hahaha. School's gonna be done by then and I can finally concentrate on this story and preparing myself for university!

I hope ya'll enjoy it 'cause it's mostly full of shit ahaha, but hey, a chapter's a chapter, ne? Just tell me what you liked and disliked about the chapter, so that I can reply to all of your wonderful reviews!

 **Please explain why and when you will update. It's been a long time.**

Ahahaha, I've received a _lot_ of reviews about this one. Some from guests. I just want to clasp my skinny fingers on your shoulders and shake you until your soul comes out. Number one reason would of course be _school_. I'm a workaholic—ask anybody I know in RL if you ever find out about me. They can say that I'm quite the ambitious little shit haha. Number two reason would be _family_ , who I feel like strangling and hugging at the same time. Number three reason would, probably, because these kinds of reviews make me want to take a much longer time to update because I have this sadistic feeling to make guys like you _wait_. I'm really sorry, but it sometimes makes me feel better to receive PMs or reviews like when will you update or like girl you're killing me with the long time since you've updated

To the rest of you folks who've never asked me when I'll update, I deeply apologize but my workaholic tendencies has made me slightly mentally unstable aha.

 **Polestar Island?**

It's legit. Loguetown is a part of this island. Apparently Loguetown isn't really an island but a town lol. I'd APA my source but meh, let me relish in my freedom from studies.

 **Any other offworlder?**

Alive? Hah! Only S!Lu-chan. The rest are all _dead dead dead_ 'cause I have proclaimed them all to be dead mwahahaha.

 **Devil Fruit?**

Oh, her devil fruit? Well, it's actually similar to the appearance of a cherry 'cause, you know, _Cherry_ drug? I just couldn't resist. Ya'll know it as the Kakki Kakki no Mi. I'd thoroughly google it if I were you if you want more details 'cause, yeah, I encourage research in my readers. Feel the research consume you, _feel it_. Whoever gets it right first get, like, an answer to any question they want about Strikhedonia.

 **Oh no! Luffy is sick.**

Hah! _Terribly_ so. It's just a side-effect of her fruit 'cause _duh_ , I ain't making her journey to learning the power of her fruit all rainbows of sunshine. I'mma make her experience pain similar to sleepless nights finishing _papers_.

 **Random street boy?**

Not really random, but more like a canon character. Legit. And no, he ain't Smoker. Smoker is too old to be a street boy now. Think about anybody who's from (or can be from) Loguetown with my description of the character. Hint: hair can be dyed .


	12. Chapter 12

**L.I.N.E.**

"What," Garp says, his voice low and controlled for once. He isn't glaring—not yet; instead, he stares evenly into the eyes of one of the few female Marines on crew. His arms are crossed over his broad chest, his back straight, and his aura for once oozing a kind of coldness that he usually reserves for those insufferable Admirals.

"Sir," the woman—Toni—says, arms clipped to her sides and fists clenched tightly. She respectfully meets his gaze, an expression of grimness painting her features. She doesn't flinch, or sweat, or even fidget. Garp had raised his crew to be strong—physically, mentally, and emotionally—and if they can't meet the gaze of their commander at their worst, then they'd better send in a letter requesting for transfer. "At 3:06 P.M., Ensign Moriyama found your granddaughter unconscious on the walkway. We immediately brought her to Yijen-sensei, and he diagnosed her with a severe case of the flu…" She trails off.

The flu. Of all diseases, Luffy decides to get sick with a simple _flu_. Garp doesn't know whether to feel relieved or worried for is granddaughter. He can't possibly faultLuffy for getting sick; he can't even recall a time when his granddaughter had _ever_ gotten sick. Makino had always made sure to inform him of any issues about Luffy's health, and the worst thing that had ever happened to her body were those dark bruises that she'd gotten from her expedition in Mt. Colubo.

"Has she woken up yet?" Garp asks, glancing at the medbay's door.

"Not yet." Toni shakes her head in a negative. "Yijen-sensei isn't sure when she'll wake up. He isn't even sure if your granddaughter's even dealing with a severe case of the flu. Her…symptoms are quite unnatural, he says."

Garp arches a brow. "Unnatural, how?" His eyes are sharper now.

Toni winces. "Yijen-sensei says that her temperature keeps going up and down. One minute, she's over a hundred degrees hot, then the next she's dropping to a cold eighty-eight. Yijen-sensei's worried because he's never seen a case like this. He's requesting permission right now to call Daishou-sensei of Headquarters for referral. Is that alright?"

Garp brings up a hand to the bridge of his nose, pinching it just as he feels an incoming headache. Of course. Luffy can't even catch a simple flu; she just had to go ahead and catch a _complicated one_.

Garp sighs—long and deeply. "Give him whatever he needs. Just as long as my granddaughter gets better. Inform the crew of the current situation and of my orders as well," he issues to her.

Toni nods. "They already know of the situation, sir. I'll inform them of your orders and prepare the Den Den Mushi for Yijen-sensei's use. Sir." She salutes to him, before jogging off.

"Bogard," Garp calls to his second-in-command, to one of his most trusted companions, and turns his tired gaze upon him.

Like the telepath that Garp had always accused him of being, Bogard nods. "I'll get her things from your room."

"Thanks." Garp means it. He doesn't know what he'd do without Bogard. He'd might have already overworked the crew to death if Bogard hadn't always been there to remind him that not everybody had the same Monkey-like endurance that he had.

Bogard pauses, then he lays a hand Garp's shoulder. "She'll be fine," he tries for reassuring, before he realizes how awkward he's being and beats a hasty retreat over to fulfill unspoken orders.

Garp barks out a laugh at his second-in-command's awkwardness. Over thirty, and still as socially awkward as a bumbling teenager when comforting somebody.

Remembering his current predicament, Garp enters the medbay without any sort of theatrics. Yijen had warned him of the consequences of being startled whilst he's working, and Garp really isn't all that interested in having his beloved Melody having to suffer the brunt of an accidental explosion from within the ship.

The first thing he sees is Yijen, hunched over a desk where he's presumedly peering through a microscope. The certified doctor is young—too young for any Marine commander to be comfortable with having as the _only_ doctor on board—but Garp doesn't doubt his capabilities. He's seen with his own two eyes how Yijen had saved countless of lives with those test tubes filled with chemicals of his, and how Yijen had managed to single-handedly defend the Melody from pillaging ruffians when the entire crew had been out defending an island in West Blue.

Garp knows that he can trust Yijen to help his granddaughter.

"Yijen," he calls to, his voice considerably lower than its usual roar. "How's she?"

Yijen pulls away from the microscope and turns his gaze from it to Garp. His dark green eyes look even more glassy than they usually are. "Not good," Yijen places out before anything else. "She's only stable for now, but I doubt it'll last long. I'm sure you've heard from one of the others, but your granddaughter's condition is, clearly put, abnormal," Yijen states, crossing his leg over the other as he clasps his hands over the higher knee. "Her temperature's been fluctuating from a staggering—" Yijen pauses, before he picks up a clipboard from his desk. "From at most 106 degrees Fahrenheit, before it drops down to at least 81 degrees Fahrenheit," he informs him.

"…Okay," Garp says, nodding unsurely. He doesn't quite know what's the average temperature of a human being before it subsides to the extremes, but he's knowledgeable enough to know that such a high or low number isn't all that good.

"I've never seen such a medical condition in my entire career as a physician. Your granddaughter's breached the highest number a fever could run, and has even surpassed that of a pneumonia's. I…If your granddaughter's temperature goes any higher than 110 or lower than 71, then…" Yijen trails off, gaze straying towards the medbay's wall that is adorned with pictures of the anatomies of most species.

"Then?" Garp encourages, even if he knows deep down what Yijen is implying. He'd rather know what his available options are now, than scramble for what he assumes can be done.

"Then Luffy-san will die," Yijen manages to say in a firm voice, meeting the Vice-Admiral's gaze with that of a clinical professional's.

Garp sighs out through his nose. "I'd assumed as so. Tell me, do you know the cause of her sickness?" He asks.

Yijen huffs out a breath. "It's only a hypothesis, but," the doctor removes the glass slide from the microscope where a small dot can be found. "I found this in her bag."

Garp squints suspiciously at the small, black dot drenched in a bluish-green liquid that he is dubious of. "And that's supposed to be a…?"

"It's a small fraction of the stem I'd cut it from. I found a big jar in her bag with hardly anything inside of it aside from a stem that had been plucked out of its fruit. I didn't want to assume so, but," Yijen pauses, and places the glass slide back in the microscope as he is silent. "It all matches the requirements. The annual rings aren't round, but curly. The stem belongs to no monocot or dicot because its vascular bundles are arranged in a unique fashion, and its leaves has a kind of venation that is swirl-like instead of vein-like."

A dark, twisting sensation sinks deeply into Garp's gut, where it settles in and writhes like some kind of tentacled monstrosity. He hasn't felt this feeling since Roger had revealed the existence of Ace to him, since Dragon had confronted him on that bleary Tuesday evening, since Luffy had been brought out from within her father's cloak—Garp _knows_ , and he doesn't quite like what he's already expecting.

"A devil fruit," Garp breathes out, and can practically feel the heavy weight those three words bring.

Yijen purses his lips, but nods. "Yes. A devil fruit. I haven't been able to identify which one yet, since I'm hardly knowledgeable in this kind of field. However, I have a colleague of mine who's dealt with several cases like this, and I'd like to request permission to—"

"Permission granted," Garp interrupts. "Anything you need, consider it granted, so long as its within reason."

"Of course," Yijen nods firmly. "Would you like to see her?" He inquires afterwards.

"Please," Garp nearly croaks out.

Yijen gets up from his seat. "This way then," he says as he guides Garp past several unoccupied beds. They finally reach the other end of the room, where they stand between two divide rooms. Naturally, they face the one that has its curtains closed shut, and Yijen is the one who pushes aside the curtain.

Garp sees his granddaughter—Luffy, who should be vibrant, who should be up on her feet and wreaking havoc or reading a book, who should be as comparable to sun itself with how she radiates a kind of light that Garp hasn't seen in so long—and rushes to her side.

He reaches a hand out to caress her cheek, but pulls back when his fingers are nearly _burned_ from the amount of heat suppressed within her skin.

"Shit. Her temperature's rising again," Yijen curses, which isn't a common thing.

Garp watches as Yijen places a large, rubber compress wrapped in thick cloth atop Luffy's head.

"It has ice in it. I use it in order to gradually decrease her temperature. If her temperature drops too low, I use a hot compress to incite her nerves to inform her body to heat up," Yijen explains.

Garp numbly nods his head, feeling as if somebody had injected him with a pint of general anesthesia. Imbuing his hand with Armament Haki, Garp reaches out to once again place it against his granddaughter' cheek.

He doesn't get burned this time; however, he can still feel a considerable amount of heat seeping from her skin to his own.

His gaze softens as he stares into Luffy's unnaturally pale face. Droplets of sweat roll down the sides of her face, and nearly the entirety of her face is flushed red from her current condition. There are patches covering her arm and placed upon her chest, all of which connected to machines that beep out information of her current condition or drip necessary fluids into her body.

"Is she in pain?" Garp asks after a considerable amount of time, watching as his granddaughter's eyebrows furrow deeply and her lips twist into a grimace.

"Most likely," Yijen answers.

It's been a while since Garp has felt as helpless as he is now. Give him something to punch, and he can. Give him something to arrest, and he will. Give him something to chase after for countless of years and throw them into a prison, and he will go through with it; however, he can't do anything to something as intangible as this—a disease, an idea, a _lie_.

Garp can't do anything but watch as the people he loves succumb to it.

( _His wife to sickness_ )

( _His dear friends to the system_ )

( _His son to a belief_ )

Garp grabs a metal stool that is just right for him, sits on it, and waits by his granddaughter's bedside. This is all he can do—offer his presence to her, to let her know that he'll be here for her at the very least.

( _He won't lose her to something as feeble as this_ )

Yijen doesn't so much as blink. "I presume you'll be staying here until she wakes up?"

"Until she gets better," Garp corrects.

Yijen sighs. "Alright. I'll inform Bogard that you'll be staying here for the time being. However, that doesn't mean that you'll be out of paperwork duty. You can do it here instead of doing nothing," he beams, smiling amusedly at the narrowed look Garp sends his way.

 **L.I.N.E.**

There is a heavy feeling that settles deeply within her. Inside of her bones, inside of her veins, inside of her muscles, inside of her tissues—inside of _everything and she can't breathe_.

It's like her entire body's bloated, akin to a sponge that had just soaked up its maximum amount of fluids; it's also like the pores of her skin had been corked, preventing anything from escaping her and trapping it all up inside of her.

Water, oxygen, wastes, and blood. Everything _burns_ and _freezes_. Everything about her feels disgustingly dirty and unnervingly clean at the same time. Her stomach aches with a confusing kind of pain as if it doesn't know if it yearns for food or wants to expel everything out.

Everything _hurts_ , and she doesn't know _why_.

"—tals…ine," the sound of somebody's voice rings loudly into her ears, and she feels it vibrate throughout her entire body.

She jerks weakly at the touch of something cold against her hot— _itsteamsitburnsitmelts_ —skin.

"Oi!...s….ake?!" A familiar voice—Garp? Gramps?—filters through her senses, and his mere presence nearby is enough to motivate her to wake up _._

Everything about her feels heavy. Her eyelids feel like somebody had just placed cannonballs atop of them, and she feels whatever energy she has being sucked greedily by that seemingly easy action.

She barely opens her eyes, peering through a blurry visage at the world around her. But she sees Gramps's large blob-like image, and her fingers quiver towards him.

Garp doesn't notice her quivering fingers; however, he does notice her currently conscious state, and it's enough to send him into action.

"Luffy?!" He yells, and the loudness of his voice _hurts_ her.

 _It hurts_ , she wants to say, but her throat is dry and full and nothing wants to come out.

"—en! She…—?!" Garp demands.

 _It hurts. Shut up, shut up, shut up_ , she cries desperately in her head.

Another voice, one that is unfamiliar to her, enters her ears. It's a softer and much quiet voice, and she struggles to move her gaze towards the slender blob standing on the other side.

She realizes she's on a bed—when did she get one?—and it appears as if she's hooked up to an IV line, a heart monitor and a few other machines she can just barely recognize.

She stares at the slender blob, before looking back at the blob that is her grandfather.

 _Quiet_ , is the last thought that trails in her mind, before her body decides enough and she's forced to slip back into the land of sleep and numbing ache.

She closes her eyes. Everything is white, before the color flows down the drain and the meaning of color is lost.

She sleeps, and never wonders when she'll wake up next.

 **L.I.N.E.**

She slips in and out of consciousness a dozen times over what feels like forever. She doesn't know how long she's spent on bed—time is a fickle thing, and she currently doesn't care enough to fret over wasted time.

Her body still feels as if she's stuffed full with something that _stubbornly refuses to come out_. She desperately wants to rip apart her chest and pull that _burningfreezingitching_ pain out of her.

If she had the energy to, she'd have cried her eyes out _hours ago_.

But one time, when she slips back into the land of the living, something odd occurs.

When she opens her eyes, Garp is still sitting there next to her bed with a desk piled high with papers. He's been by her side every time she wakes up and before she goes back to sleep. She loves him a little more for that.

But it's not Garp that's her reason for waking up.

She wakes up to a gentle croon of words that belong to a language that she can't recognize for the life of her. Her mind can't process the syllables or words that linger into her ears; however, she notices the way how her heart slows down to just a meter in order to match the rhythm of the song's beat.

She doesn't recognize the song, but her body _does_ and the very blood that flows through her veins _sings in response_.

She falls asleep with a foreign song in her ears, never noticing how the balance between fire and ice within her body has finally righted itself and the pain that's been eating her body has numbed.

 **L.I.N.E.**

She isn't getting any better.

She comes to this conclusion on one moonlit night when her consciousness decides to come back to her. She isn't even aware that she's out of dreamland until after a few minutes, and that's because everything is so dark.

Her entire body still feels as if it had been caught aflame whilst being submerged in ice; yet, there's a slight numbness to it that hadn't been there before, and joyful relief swells up within her chest as if she'd just been given the best gift _ever_.

A snort sounds right next to her, and she cranes her neck ever so slightly with just a wince. The nerves found at the back of her neck feel as if they'd just been set aflame, and she internally cries.

She sees Garp sleeping in a large futon on the floor right next to her bed, and her eyes soften. Despite his crazy endeavors, Garp really is a wonderful grandfather. She wonders what could have happened to make him deserve the title of shitty geezer.

His snores are loud, but it isn't loud enough to break her eardrums; with that, she settles back in bed and closes her eyes, preparing herself to slip back to unconsciousness.

"— _On rippling tides,_

' _Neath glittering stars,_

 _Cast your worries aside,_

 _For this dream of ours—"_

Her eyes snap wide open. Despite her entire body screaming at her to _not fucking move_ , she pushes herself up on the bed and wildly looks around. She _knows_ this song, _knows_ those four feeble lines like the back of her hand and the entire anatomy of the human body.

The heart monitor positioned right next to her bed beeps in accordance with the rate at which her heart has started beating in a rate that has accelerated higher than the normal speed. She pays this no mind, too preoccupied with listening to the song that practically echoes into the room.

"— _Let your heart soar up high to the ever blue sky—"_

She rips off of the patches on her chest and arms and very gently removes the IV line needled into the back of her hand. Quietly, she drops off of the bed and shakily lands on her feet. The feeling of short needles pricking into her feet makes her want to whimper, but she swallows it down like a big girl.

Just as she's about to leave, she hesitates and looks back at Garp. Her grandfather promptly snorts a sleep bubble, looking for all the world like he has less worries than a newborn babe.

She eyes him enviously, wishing that it was _her_ in his position.

 _He'll be fine_ , she reassures herself as she quietly scurries out of her divide room. A light at the other end of the hall, where the only exit is, alarms her greatly, and she takes great care to keep her feet feather-light and her steps as quiet as a serpent slithering atop marble.

She passes by a man she's seen in passing but isn't really familiar with—the doctor of the ship, she presumes by his doctor's coat—and thanks every deity she knows that he'd apparently fallen asleep hunched over his desk with his pen dipped into his mug.

With one last wary glance at the doctor, she escapes out into the moonlit deck.

Three steps out onto the deck and she immediately regrets her decision. It's chilly as fuck out here, and she shivers as a passing breeze drifts by her, causing a bazillion needles to sink into her skin. She rubs her hands together, thinking that maybe it wasn't a good idea to come out in only a thin hospital gown that doesn't even cover her beautiful butt cheeks.

But the singing is louder out here, and her blood burns strongly in random spikes as if its singing in response.

She's always known how _weird_ and _unnatural_ this body of hers is, but this is just bordering on _supernatural_.

(She doesn't pay any heed to those moments when everything had seemed _clearer_.

Mama. Papa. The snake. The tiger. Mamoru. Garp. Ace. _The ocean_.

She _doesn't._ )

"Luffy?"

The drawl of her name on somebody else's tongue snaps her back to reality. Looking up, she meets Bogard's gaze and flinches. Uh-oh. She'd been caught.

Despite so, she remembers her manners and flashes a brilliant smile at him— _I'm just a kid, out on deck, wanting to watch the stars. No sneaking body-snatcher here. Best be on your way, good sir_. "Good evening, Bogard," she greets.

Nonplussed, Bogard tilts his fedora upwards so that his gaze of _I-know-what-you're-doing-and-I-don't-like-it_ is easier to see, making it much more effective to guilt trip her. "Evening," he returns accordly. "What are you doing out here?" He asks, and the way he adjusts his stance a little bit wider so that there's no way for her to run around him. Smart man.

"Do you know who's singing?" She asks, dropping all pretenses of lying. Bogard's a smart and cunning man, less trickable than her gullible grandfather, so it's best to keep her silver tongue in its sheath.

Bogard tilts his head ever so slightly. "Singing?" The way he says it makes her confused.

"Yeah. Singing. It woke me up and now I can't sleep so I thought why not meet the singer?" She laughs, but her laughter eventually dies down at Bogard's continued silence. "…Bogard?"

"Nobody's singing, Luffy," he says, and she feels her insides freeze.

The voice of somebody singing continues flowing into her ears— _In this great, wide sea of Blue_ —and she shudders as electricity shoots down her spine. Unable to believe Bogard—maybe he's just a little deaf and she has really good hearing, she tries to reassure herself—she asks of him to look around the ship with her because _there really is somebody singing_.

Bogard hesitates, and she brings out the big guns. Raising her arms up to him and shining big, black eyes at him, she asks one more time, "Please?" And Bogard falls for it with a sigh whilst he picks her up. Hook, line, and fucking sinker, baby.

Together, they investigate the ship for this mysterious singer. They check everywhere, every nook and cranny, even going so far as to check into the barracks and see who's out of bed.

Nobody. Not one of the Marine soldiers on board are out of bed; they're all sleeping like 3-month old infants. Furthermore, they hadn't come across any intruders on ship.

"Maybe you're just imagining it, Luffy," Bogard says, not even bothering to cover up his huge yawn. "You _are_ still sick," he reminds her.

She should believe him. She really should, but the singing keeps playing into her ears, beckoning her to find them.

"I'm not imagining it," she huffs, crossing her arms as she paces back and forth on the deck. From what she's gathered, the singer isn't inside of the ship. The voice steadily grew quieter the deeper they went inside; here, out in the open, it's loud and clear and absolutely breathtaking.

Case in point, if the singer isn't _on_ the ship, then they must be _off_ the ship.

The realization hits her like that stupid truck that had hit the ambulance she'd been on. Scurrying towards the railing, she climbs atop the metal bars until she's heavily leaning over it. The metal is cool underneath her touch— _ow ow ow, pins and needles, pins and needles_ —but she pays no heed to it as she squints her eyes and glares suspiciously at the deep abyss of the ocean they're sailing on.

"Luffy! Don't do that, what if you go overboard?!" Bogard snaps at her.

"I won't!" She snaps back, and means it. She doesn't plan on dying anytime soon; nor is she too keen on the idea of testing this whole Devil-fruit-eater, anchor-in-the-sea symptom she'll have to live with for a lifetime.

The ocean continues to ripple alongside the slight rocking of their boat, and she feels as if the dark waters are mocking her.

Still, the further she leans in, the louder the singing becomes.

Thoroughly creeped out, she leans back, the singing decreasing in loudness as she does so, and climbs down the railing.

Turning around, she looks up at Bogard. Her lower lip is trembling, and she is honest to God _scared as fuck_. "…I think the ocean is singing," she murmurs quietly.

"…What?" Bogard says, and he wears one of the best what the fuck expressions she's ever seen in her two lifetimes.

"I think the ocean is singing," she repeats, watching as Bogard crouch down in front of her.

"…How many times has Garp dropped you?" He asks in all seriousness.

 _Fuck you_ , she hisses in her head but doesn't really mean it because she can't blame him. Even _she_ thinks she's spouting off nonsense befitting that of a crazy old lady who probably owns ten cats and four big dogs.

"I'm _serious_ , Bogard. The ocean really _is_ singing."

Bogard has this defeated look on his face. "Okay. Fine. If you say the ocean is signing, then it is. Can we just get in bed and sleep? I have to get up in two hours."

A little irritated that Bogard doesn't believe her, she prepares herself for a debate However, one look at Bogard's tired face—pale-skinned, drooping eyes, and jaw slacker than it usually is—makes her eat up her argument.

"Okay," she says, feeling guilt swell up inside of her. She's forgotten. She isn't on vacation; she's on a Marine ship with a crew of trained Marine soldiers who has duty and training each day. She doesn't have to get up early in the morning, nor does she have any tasks to accomplish tomorrow. She's just three, Garp's granddaughter, and a civilian to currently be protected. "Okay, let's go to bed."

Bogard sighs in relief, probably thinking _thank fucking Blue_. "Come on. I'll bring you back to the infirmary," he says, turning his back to her as he adjusts his Marine jacket over his shoulders.

She nods wordlessly and a tad bit disappointed that she doesn't get to solve this mystery tonight. She's just about to follow him until a cold and wet sensation around her left ankle captures her attention.

Curious, she looks down and her eyes widen ever so slightly at the thick and dark tendril that is wrapped around her ankle. She has all but a moment to think _Fuck nuggets_ before the tendril yanks her from the deck. Airborne, a scream tears itself out of her throat.

The last thing she sees is Bogard running towards the railing, the grip of his long blade in hand, and a frantic expression twisting his features. His gaze catches hers.

 _Help_ , her eyes say before she's dragged into the dark and unknown depths of this world's ocean with a great splash.

 **L. I. N. E.**

The water is cold. It creeps into her skin like some kind of disease, stealing whatever heat that had previously been packed up tightly within her body. She knows now, understands now, that the series hadn't exaggerated about the extreme vulnerability Devil Fruit eaters had when exposed to the ocean's biome; because no matter how hard she tries to wave her arms and legs, tries to remember what it's like to swim, she just _can't_.

Its as if the small, barely noticeable salt composition of the ocean had sunk into the pores of her body and accumulated themselves in between the joints of her bones and in between every layer of her skin and muscles. When she tries to move, there's a painfully gritty feeling to it, and she belatedly wonders if this is what machines feel like when they try to turn their rusted gears.

 _I knew I shouldn't have eaten that fruit_ , she thinks to herself as the burning in her lungs and stomach intensifies. She doesn't breathe, no matter how much she wants to flush out the carbon dioxide in her body, because there's no oxygen for her to _breathe in_ and she isn't all that inclined to fill in her lungs with a mouthful of water.

The tendril wrapped around her ankle appear to multiply because suddenly there's several more wrapped around various parts of her body. One such tendril is wrapped snugly around her neck, and she knows her position as prey because one strong squeeze and it's lights out for her forever. They mercilessly drag her down into whatever abyss the ocean holds, and she is left helpless to whatever this creature's intentions may be no matter how hard she tries to struggle.

The ocean's waters sting her eyes as she keeps them open, but she won't close them. She won't close them so long as the moon's evanescent light continues to shine down on her. Somebody—Bogard, Poppy, somebody, _anybody_ —will help her; she has faith in that.

Dark spots begin to dance in her vision and, despite the screaming protests of her body that shoots up to her nervous system, her struggles begin anew because she is _not going to die_ _again_. She just has to stay awake long enough for somebody to come save her, and she will stay away _damn it_.

She's weak and doesn't know much to save her pathetic life— _bright lights, intense pain, numbness, nothing_ —but her will is strong, and she will not surrender to something as feeble as this kidnapper of hers that had resorted to treachery via taking a three-year old child as its victim.

Anger and indignation blooms hotly next to her beating heart, next to her burning lungs, next to that powerful coil inside of her that twists and tightens and compresses, and—

 _I won't die!_

She screams and—

 **L. I. N. E.**

 _I don't want to die._

She knows. She knows she doesn't want to die. Why repeat it?

 _I don't want to die_.

It echoes repeatedly in the vast darkness and coldness.

It takes her a moment to realize that these are not her thoughts. It is not the disembodied, familiar and unfamiliar voice that she uses within her head. This is something that has a medium, one that uses a voice box whose hertz rings loudly yet softly in her ears. It is pitched high and full of sorrow that makes her emphatically sad as well.

 _I don't want to die_.

It repeats, and it is the voice of a _child_ of all things. A child like she is supposed to be—young and innocent and so scared of what's going to kill it.

She opens her mouth, nothing comes out nor does anything come in. Her throat feels as if its full of pins and needles, but the pain doesn't hurt her. It's numb and cold and burning and so contradictory. Is she dead already? _Again_?

She flutters her eyelids open— _when did she close them?_ —and sees no moonlight shinning down on her. Instead, there is an orb. It glows weakly; its core is a pretty silvery color whilst its edges twinkle a soft light blue color that's mostly due to the ocean engulfing them.

It emanates a kind of warmth that she so desperately yearns because everything is cold. She wants this warmth, wants it to sink into her bones until it's a part of her because she never wants to feel cold again.

She raises an arm up to touch it— _where is the salt locking her joints, where is the suffocation in her respiratory system_ —but she's jerked back by the dark tendrils that have tightened to the point of searing pain.

The tendril around her neck _burns_.

 _ **DO nOt TOucH hIM.**_

Something deep and ancient and powerful echoes, its voice akin to steel being grated into fine swiss.

It yanks her back—away from the orb, away from the light, away from _what she wants_ —and she feels herself being pulled down, down, _down_.

 _I don't want to die._

The child's voice echoes in her ears, louder this time and with more desperation. Her eyes track how the orb's light seems to grow dimmer as the distance between the two of them grows. Tendrils that appear to have been crafted from darkness shoot up from around her, its intended target the orb. She watches as the tendrils wrap greedily around the orb, watches as the orb's pretty silvery glow becomes a duller shade of gray, watches as its light weakens and weakens and weakens—

 _Don't let me die!_

The child-like voice screams, and she doesn't know why but a surge of protectiveness arises from within her. She struggles against the tendrils despite the intense searing it brands into her body as it fights for control over her body.

She flaps her arms, trying with all her might to push herself upwards towards the dying orb, and kicks at nothing below her. The tendrils pull taut, but she will have _none of that_.

The orb is close—so close that all she has to do is reach a hand out, but the tendrils chaining her prove stubborn and determine to kill her because it yanks and she suddenly finds herself up side down.

From where the tendrils have sprouted is a vast swirl of darkness and _nothing_. She doesn't understand, but she doesn't want to understand _now_ of all times. Bringing a wrist near her mouth, she clamps her canines down on the tendril wrapped around it. Something warm and disgusting fills her mouth, but her decidedly reckless action has caused the tendril to disperse into _nothing_.

Taking her chances, she does the same to as much tendrils as she can until she's sufficiently free enough to flip herself upright and propel herself towards the orb that only has but a few specks of light left within it.

She grabs the tendrils wrapped snugly around it, wrestling with many that snap at her and having to resort to biting a few more. The minute her fingers graze the orb that is slowly dying and faintly crying, the orb suddenly flares out in a brilliant slash of white hot light.

She watches as the tendrils jerk back but it's too late. The white light reaches them and they burn with a sizzle before her eyes until there's nothing left but dust that flows away with the ocean's current.

The orb radiates brightly, and it appears that its scorching luminosity is enough to keep the dark tendrils away from them because the tendrils snap and whip back and forth from a distance where the light is faint and weak.

In front of her, the orb hovers steadily.

She has half a mind to reach out to it once more, to graze her fingers against its surface, but it swims away from her and out of touch. Understanding its mistrust towards her, she lowers her arm and keeps her hands to herself.

After a moment, the orb of light flares stronger.

 _You didn't let me die_.

The child-like voice says, and there's surprise and bewilderment in its tone.

She opens her mouth to reply, but nothing comes out. She can't use her voice for some strange reason. Dejectedly, she closes her mouth and wonders how else could she convey her words.

Tentatively, she cups her hands and holds it out.

The orb nears her, appearing to flutter about near her hands. It appears it understands her action but makes no move to immediately accept it. It hovers before the tips of her fingers, and she has this weird feeling that it's _looking_ at her strangely enough.

And then, slowly, ever so slowly, the orb nestles itself into the cup of her hands.

If she could gasp, she would.

It feels warm in her hands. The warmth travels up her arms and spreads throughout the rest of her body like some kind of cocoon. It feels like the aftermath of consuming a hot drink after hours being out in the cold. It feels like her old apartment nestled in between buildings but full of everything she holds dear to her heart.

It feels like a piece of her soul had just snapped back into place, and she feels _at home_.

 _Don't let me die_.

The child-like voice reminds her, this time in a haughtier and more commanding voice that sounds ridiculously funny and cute and so _weird_.

 _I give you permission to use me_.

These are the last words the orb of light emits, before something burning and freezing suddenly surges into her body, and oh that suffocating feeling is back in her lungs.

Involuntarily, she closes her eyes.

 **L. I. N. E.**

—the coil unfurls.

It's as if a bomb detonated from within her because the coil explodes and something ancient and powerful and _hers_ surges past her atoms, her molecules, her cells, her organs, her systems, _her entire body_ and promptly ripples the water from around her in all directions.

The tendrils wrapped tightly around her body whip back, as if burned, and she takes the chance to do something that she doesn't quite understand but her body _does_.

She feels the water swirl around the tips of her fingers, creating little whirlpools that does little to no harm with their pathetically miniscule sizes. Through the whirlpools, something unfamiliar gathers and forms from underneath her hands.

When she looks, there are ten small orbs that glow a deep and dark purple color that illuminate the forms of the small fishes swimming past her. She has no clue what these spheres represent, nor does she quite understand what they're made of, but there's a tingling sensation running from the tips to her fingers, up to her arm, and to a part curled cozily in a spot just below her lungs.

She knows this much: she wants out of this cold water; she wants the soles of her feet to land on something solid and stable; she wants her dying lungs to be replenished with sweet, sweet air.

 _Out_ , she thinks.

And then, before her very eyes, the ten glowing orbs merge into one very fat orb that flattens into a lengthy platform that is large and wide enough for her to kneel on.

It looks like a frozen, dark purple blanket. It looks like that flying thing in the Disney movie _Aladdin—_ what was it called?

Something clicks in her mind.

Flying magic carpet.

Flying.

 _Fly_.

With that one thought, the platform suddenly pushes up and she's left scrambling to hold onto its edges so as to prevent herself from falling. It lifts up, up, _up_ , and she suddenly emerges out of the water, wet hair and clothes clinging everywhere.

Most of all, there is air and she greedily sucks in a whole lot of it.

"Luffy!" Something calls out to her name, the loudness of it ringing in her ears. Her head feels as if it'd taken damage from a hammer, and a cold breeze that drifts by only emphasizes the goosebumps that had popped out from her skin and she shudders.

She looks down, and there's Bogard. He keeps getting lower, and she belatedly realizes that it's _her_ who keeps getting _higher_.

She grips onto the edges of this, this, _whatever it is!_ It's solid and cool to touch, and she feels something from within it vibrate and move about.

"Stop, stop!" She commands, and it does so much to her surprise. The dark purple platform from underneath her hovers in mid-air, neither going up nor down. It's just suspended there. "Ugh…" She doesn't know what to say.

It seems like Bogard doesn't know what to say as well, because he just stands there, a foot on the railing, and gawking at her like some fish.

"D-Down?" She tries, and the platform thingy goes down. _Oh my god,_ she thinks as the platform lands onto the deck. _I have a fucking magic carpet_ , she thinks, in a daze, and remembers to command it to stop once a crack forms on the deck underneath the platform when it tries to push down even more.

Tentatively, she gets off of the platform and watches as it disperses back into ten dark purple orbs that hover around her.

She looks up to meet Bogard's bewildered gaze and raises her hands up, her palms flat and facing the night sky in an I-don't-fucking-know-either way.

 **L. I. N. E.**

"This is just so fascinating," Yijen says, poking a dark purple sphere. The sudden action causes said sphere to sway backwards before it hovers back into its original position. "And you say you just…made them?" He asks, turning his gaze onto hers.

She squirms, uncomfortable with everybody's eyes on her, but she reluctantly nods. "Yeah," she nods.

"Hmm," Yijen hums before he shows her the book he'd had tucked underneath his armpit, exposing the front cover to her. "This is an encyclopedia of Devil Fruits that had been recorded so far. Could you point out to me which one you ate?" He asks her in a soft and polite voice.

She accepts the book and flips through the pages, taking into account each Devil Fruit's sketched illustration. The silent room is filled with the sound of her continuously flipping to the next page. After a while, when she reaches the last page that depicts an oddly colored peach with purple swirls, she closes the book shut. "It's not there," she says.

Her grandfather's eyebrows rise high on his forehead.

"Here. Why don't you draw it for us," Yijen says, handing her a paper and a pencil.

"I'm not good at drawing," she warns him as she takes the pencil and paper and draws the fruit as she'd remembered it to look like. "It looked like a cherry and was black all over, but it had lots of swirls that were different colors," she explains as she illustrates the fruit to the best of her capability.

"A cherry," Yijen hums as he takes her proffered drawing materials from her when she was finished.

"It's called the Kakki Kakki no Mi," she adds as forethought, suddenly remembering the name of the Devil Fruit. She doesn't know what it means, but maybe the doctor would.

"Kakki?" Yijen voices aloud, blinking. He eyes the purple orb with inquisitive eyes. "Hm… It doesn't make any sense," he mutters.

She tilts her head, internally narrowing her eyes at him. "Do you know what it means?" She asks, summoning her best childish voice. I'm three years old, she repeats over and over again in her head to make the act more believable.

"It means energy," Yijen answers, bringing up a hand to rub his chin as his eyes look up skyward at the ceiling. "I'd expect it to be a sub-class of the Goro Goro no Mi since, well, energy _is_ electricity," he voices out his own opinion, and she goes silent, the gears in her head turning at the revelation.

She doesn't notice the conversation Yijen, Garp, and Bogard have in front of her. She's still reeling over the implications that she'd eaten the _Energy Energy Fruit_ of all fucking Devil Fruits.

Yijen wasn't wrong per say. It's just that electricity was merely a form of energy. Energy, if she remembered it right, was anything that fueled an object, allowing it movement or, well, _action_.

She wracked through her brain for any kind of information about energy she remembered. There was the obvious potential energy, the kinetic energy, the chemical energy, and the…hot energy? She couldn't remember. She regrets that she hadn't listened more to her Physic teachers' lectures, because _man_ does she need that knowledge now.

Maybe she should have just eaten the Gomu Gomu no Mi like in canon…

"Luffy?" A heavy hand on her head snaps her out of her reverie. "You okay, Lu?" Garp asks, and he looks worried. He looks the most worried he'd been since that time she'd had her little escapade to Mt. Colubo.

"Yeah. I'm okay," she confirms, before she flushes slightly. "And I'm sorry too," she apologizes.

"Sorry? Sorry for what?" He questions, looking confused.

"For getting sick," she explains, looking down at her hands that have clenched onto the blanket covering her leg. "And for adding to everyone's problems. I mean, you all already have enough going on, what with training and running the ship and taking care of everyone," she rambles on. "I didn't know I'd get sick after I ate that fruit, so, ugh, sorry," she repeats.

She hears Garp sigh long and loud. She doesn't expect him to gather her up in his large arms and bring her small body against his bulky chest.

Blinking, she looks up. "Poppy?"

Garp smiles with no real mirth down at her. "You don't have to say sorry for that, Luffy," he tells her. "Everybody gets sick, and once they do we can't really stop it. You're bound to get sick after everything you've gone through. It's your first time out of Dawn Island, so it's expected for you to catch some sort of weird sickness out in sea. We're lucky you only got a fever," he says and somehow, in some way, he manages to ease her worries.

"She contracted a never before seen kind of pneumonia," Bogard mentions, correcting his superior with an unimpressed look. "She could've died if we didn't have a doctor on board."

Garp grimaces. "Yeah, well, we did, so no worries!" He tries laughing it off.

She is struck with the repeating awareness that she is, quite literally, trash.

"I'm sorry," she repeats, but not for the reason her grandfather and Bogard expect. "I'm so sorry," she says, for the past, for the present, and for the future.

"Hey, I already told you, you brat," Garp pats her on the back of her head. "You've nothing to say sorry for. I should've looked after you more, and—oh yeah, 'fore I forget, don't stick any weird things into your mouth, okay? Who knows what kind of other diseases you could get," he lectures her.

She grips his coat tightly into her fists and presses her lips together.

 **L. I. N. E.**

Suffice to say, after that little drowning incident, she doesn't dare go near the ocean until they reach the next island. She stays far away—well, as far away as she can on a ship sailing in the middle of who knows where—and nobody on board utters one complaint to her face.

Garp had learned that lesson the hard way when he'd dragged her on deck after days of staying cooped up in a room and reading whatever books Yijen had to pass the time and find something in relation to her Devil Fruit powers.

She'd taken one, daringly long look at the ocean, seen its sparkling water ( _is reminded of its icy depths)_ and rippling waves ( _and its hostile tendrils_ ), shuddered, and promptly emptied her stomach on the recently polished wooden floor. She'd dry heaved for a few more minutes after that as most of the Marine soldiers that had seen her little episode had squawked and panicked, running very far away from a Garp who had frozen.

She'd returned to the clinic after that with a red face, tear-stained cheeks, and a stomach having lost its breakfast.

Case in point, Garp hadn't bothered her about it again and allowed her to stay indoors for however long she'd wanted to.

 _I just need time_ , she thinks to herself as she scribbles down an explanation for one of her theories concerning her Devil Fruit. _I just need some time to heal_ , she nearly sings to herself in her head, her head missing a few loose screws after what is a decidedly traumatic event to an acute degree.

(Nothing can compare to her death, after all. But there's just something about drowning that's as painful as bleeding to death)

A sharp pain throbs in the right side of her stomach and she takes a moment to rub it.

 _Some pirate I'll be in the future_ , she thinks in quite an ironic manner.

As if having sense a sudden influx in the energy of her nervous system, or maybe just sensing her depressing mood, the dark purple spheres that had initially been hovering near her bump into her skin and just…stay there.

She writes _probably sentient_ underneath the characteristic section on the paper and wonders how is this her life.

 **L.I.N.E.**

Although Yijen had told her she'd been bedridden for two weeks (!), she spends another two weeks in the infirmary gathering her strength and steering clear from the deck so as to avoid a repeat of her breaking out in cold sweat at the sight of the ocean.

She doesn't sit idly. She spends those two weeks wisely by studying what exactly _is_ her Devil Fruit. She understands that it involves energy, but doesn't quite understand how she is _able_ to craft such dark purple spheres that float around her and _why_ exact do they take the shape of spheres.

It is especially difficult when there are no books on board with any kind of information regarding energy. Although Yijen certainly does have an array of interesting texts, all of which revolve around anything medical and tell her little of energy and more of anatomy or how to diagnose/treat a specific injury/sickness.

But if there's one thing that she is, it's that she's smart. She's gone on her entire first life with nothing but her smarts and a map ( _cagecagecage_ ) in her head to guide her, so she'll make do as she always has.

And so, with nothing to guide her, she dives straight to experimentation.

The first thing she learns is that the dark purple spheres are attracted to her. Not in that _oh I find you beautiful_ kind of attractiveness, but in that _you're the positive to my negative_ kind of way. They follow her wherever she goes, floating around her like little ducklings, and flying back to her when either Yijen or Bogard borrows one from her to curiously fiddle around it.

The second thing she learns is that they're permanently solid, which should have been obvious with how sturdy they feel to touch. However, she'd hoped that they could, somehow, turn off their solidness and phase through walls. She'd learned this little characteristic when she'd left one in the bathroom and it had kept insistently knocking into the door. She still wonders if there is a way to change its state of matter, and pushes it aside for future experiments.

The third thing she learns is that she can change the spheres' shapes. She can't just mentally _will_ them to change shape. She has to have physical contact with the spheres and concentrate. The first time she'd tried it, nothing had happened but she didn't give up. By the fifteenth try, the sphere had bubbled up like some kind of unstable ooze, flickering in varying strengths of luminosity.

By her fifty-seventh try, she understands what she's been doing wrong. All she's been doing is _I want it to look like this_. She doesn't think of the process—doesn't imagine how on earth a sphere can transform into a square—which is why she's failed so many times. One cannot simply achieve the final outcome without a solution. After that, she learns that she needs both creativity and understanding to transform her spheres into something, and she smiles when she sees ten, small floating cubes around her with their pretty sharp edges before she turns them back into spheres.

The fourth thing she learns is that she cannot change their size. She'd mulled over this part for a good two hours since she clearly remembers having created a large platform out of the ten spheres in order to escape the fate of drowning. Realization hits her like a brick wall. _Ten_. Not one. She'd used ten spheres to create something that big. She feels like an incredible idiot for not realizing that it's just a simple process of amalgamation and deletion— sort of like playing with clay. She can change the shape all she wants, but a small blob of clay can only amount to a small product; however, if she combines a bob of clay with another bob of clay, she's able to create a much larger product.

It takes practice—three whole fucking days of it—but she manages to understand the process and accomplish it. She can't just will two spheres together into a much bigger one just like that. She has to make sure the spheres connect then concentrate greatly into crafting a bridge between the two. Creativity, once again, plays a huge part in this process because she has to _imagine_ (and she knows she's going to hate that word soon enough) how exactly can do these two spheres combine.

For the process of combining a sphere with another, she imagines a reverse, bastardized version of mitosis and meiosis but only in reverse. These spheres kind of resemble cells, so it isn't all that hard to apply the process of cell reproduction to these things.

For the process of deletion or separating the spheres, she just imagines the regular process of cell reproduction. She understands soon enough that it's much simpler to separate then combine for a reason unknown to her, but it takes less concentration and she pushes off that question for future experiments.

Although she doesn't know how to produce or exterminate these energy spheres or even what _kind_ of energy they're made off, it doesn't matter all that much now.

Her grandfather's beloved _Melody_ has docked, and as she stands out on deck after what feels like forever and stares with wide eyes at the large trees that loom over her, she can't help the thrill of excitement that shoots up straight to her heart.

Despite so, she thinks, _oh fuck_ , because she knows this island and the terrible things that _will_ happen on it.

"Finally out, I see?" Garp teases her with a grin, standing behind her.

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck_ , she thinks; nonetheless, she reaches a hand out to touch a bubble that floats near her. It's twice as big as her head and cool to touch.

The bubble doesn't pop no matter how hard she pokes and prods it, proving its resilience.

Above and around her, more than a thousand bubbles float.

The Archipelago of Sabaody stands before her, and she internally whimpers because it's only been…what? A month? Two months? How can they travel from East Blue to an island close to the Red Line in such a short amount of time?! And since when did they enter the Grand Line?!

She barely has enough time to process her internally panicking before Garp gathers her up in his arms, effectively trapping her to his large chest.

"You're coming with me! I'm not letting you out of my sight this time!" He declares in a booming voice before he promptly hops off of the boat. "Squad 1 and 2, with me! Bogard, you know what to do!" He delegates in his own irresponsible Garp way, before he's marching off to some location she has no idea where with a dozen Marine soldiers scrambling after him.

She supposes she's fortunate since she's in the company of Garp this time and it implies a great deal of probability that nothing'll happen to her this timearound.

However, dread settles lowly in her gut because she just _knows_ that something'd bound to fuck up.

Reason for so is because she's with Garp, another D. who's just as or even more batshit crazy than her to boot, so trouble's bound to find them if it hasn't yet.

 **L. I. N. E.**

 **AN:** AAAAAAAHHHH! I'VE BEEN SO IMPATIENT TO POST THIS CHAPTER BUT SCENES KEPT LOOKING WRONG AND I HAD TO REWRITE SOME A FEW TIMES AND I'VE BEEN A TOTAL GEEK FOR GYM AND VOLTRON AHHH. I MISS YA'LL. Get ready for a science lessons, though, folks, 'cause this is what this AN will most likely be about, teehee!

 **Isn't the Kakki Kakki no Mi somewhat similar to the Force Force Fruit?**

THAT'S WHAT I WAS PANICKING ABOUT WHEN I SAW THIS QUESTION IN THE REVIEWS! I thought to myself, did I have to change S!Luffy's Devil Fruit?! I was squawking and pulling my hair, believe me, and mentally crying over the days of notes I'd made in regard to energy.

But, fortunately for me, I'm friends with a total science geek who's also into the OP fandom and is a collaborator of mine huehue. He—lets call him Almighty One or Ao for now lol—explained to me the concept of force and energy. Although the two concepts are linked to one another and co-exist within the other's region, they aren't one and the same thing. Energy, as we all know, is the capability to do work; whereas Force is the transfer of this energy.

I was kind of confused with such simple definitions but Ao gave a definition. You have a rope. When it is pulled taught, that is the force, but the ability to be able to pull it is the energy itself. Another example would be the classic trolley. Force is what had made the trolley move or accelerate, whilst energy is what had made it possible to be pushed and even be able to move.

It's all just really confusing and something I have understandingly cried over about until Ao told me that I got it right. If you still don't get it, just PM me; other than that, what I will be doing will be different from the amazing **Vikingr** 's work because plagiarism is bad and terrible and I've yet to commit it and I sure as hell won't start now. However I construct and transform S!Luffy's Devil Fruit has no intention to be paralleled with Vikingr's DF. If it coincidentally does, I will, of course, either dedicate such inspiration to Vikingr because that's the right thing to do. If you see no dedication in the AN, it might be because I didn't see such parallelism so please notify me about my mistake before attacking me lol.

 **What…What did S!Luffy just do?**

Mwahahahaha! Finally, I've long to do this since I decided what DF S!Luffy would have! I'll explain the mechanisms of what I will lovingly call the usage of the _Gravos_ , which are the small dark purple spheres that had been described earlier. These _Gravos_ spheres are basically the products of the conversion of Potential Energy into Kinetic Energy. It requires little to absolutely no force at all, because what keeps its existence intact would be the energized atoms/molecules that continually vibrate. So, in essence to this continuous vibration, _Gravos_ spheres are _never_ still. Although they may appear to hover in air in one place, what goes on inside is a bunch of atoms bouncing vibrating excitedly and knocking into one another. _Gravos_ spheres will be mostly used for transportation—insert A Whole New World here because S!LUFFY HAS A FUCKING FLYING MAGIC CARPET TO RIDE AHHH—or, essentially, just knocking into opponents and dealing little damage akin to getting whacked with a laptop case. S!Luffy can manipulate the energy of this sphere to move to, fro, up, and down.

And no. S!Luffy cannot levitate objects like Shiki's or Isshi's Devil Fruits, since that involves high-tech shit that involves either gravitational force or electromagnetism. She has to create or place a _Gravos Carpet_ —lol I'll think of a better name next time—underneath it to carry it. Of course! There'll be a few more other spheres aside from the _Gravos_ spheres, but they'll be introduced soon enough in the story ;). The application and usage of the Kakki Kakki no Mi will be furtherly explained in later chapters, and also how exactly are they produced! :D

 **So…What was up with the tendrils and the orb and child-like voice?**

I'm into supernatural stuff. I am also a firm fan of myths and legends and folktales. I've read a dozen or so One Piece theories and what peaked my interest were the ones that involved the origins of Devil Fruits. There are theories wherein Devil Fruits had been born from the Tree of Eve, Adam's counterpart and basically something that had grown from the Ocean's and Earth's copulation (idk how). So like there's this theory where the Tree of Eve is so huge that its roots run underneath the ocean's floors, and that these roots are the cause of why Devil Fruit users sink because there's this magnetic pull between devil fruits and these roots that enables the immobilization or 'heavy feeling' of the consumer's limbs.

Another theory would be that the ocean had birthed several beings with supernatural powers, which the humans had sealed away with a bit of voodoo magic and cursed to enter a reincarnation cycle trapped to that of vegetative life because of fear and greed. However, because the souls of these beings are the ones that contain the supernatural powers that the oceans had blessed, the fruits and/or vegetables they have been reincarnated into possess the ability to transfer whatever supernatural powers the fruit possesses into the consumer. The reason for why DF eaters are so vulnerable to the ocean is because this is a way of the ocean trying to get back its children, which hardly works and just drowns the consumer, thus relinquishing the soul of the fruit and letting it repeat the cycle of reincarnation again.

This supernatural factor won't be that particularly strong in the story. It'll just be… _there_ , I guess, 'cause I wanted it to lol. The child-like voice belonged to the soul of the Kakki Kakki no Mi, and I haven't decided if it will appear in the future...Oh yeah! The dark tendrils that were trying to drown S!Luffy was the ocean! :D Duh 'cause the ocean is a protective momma bear and ain't no way will it let some _human_ have the powers of its child.

 **The fuck did S!Luffy even get sick for?**

Oh. She just got sick because the temperature of her body was adjusting to the influx of energy within her that kept increasing and decreasing 'cause it was trying to stabilize lol.

 **Will she meet Rayleigh on the island?**

No comment teehee, but it is guaranteed that she _will_ meet an official One piece character on the island 'cause yeah plot purposes lol.

On another note, _**summer**_! Yehey~ Oh! And any questions shall be entertained ! Thank you for your patience, ehehe! I believe I'll be able to update regularly now that summer is here huehue. I've just been backed up the past month with traveling. Anyways, next chapter shall be more exciting! ;) AND I LOVE YA'LL FOR REVIEWING AND MESSAGING ME TO SEE HOW IF I WAS STILL ALIVE YA'LL ARE ADORABLE AND DESERVE IDK SMUT SINCE I ASSUME MOST OR ALL OF YA'LL HAVE DELVED INTO THAT PARTICULAR AREA AND IF NOT THEN FLUFF AHHH.


	13. Chapter 13

**Warning:** Slavery, Brainwashing, Beastiality, Stockholm syndrome, Mentioned Possible Rape, and the general degradation of human life into a commodity.

 **L. I. N. E.**

Goldie continues to count the days since Master Jerugdiel had bought her. It's been six years, four months, and seventeen days; she's forgotten the reason as to why she keeps counting, but never stops wondering _why_.

( _"One day," he promises, holding her hands past the bars separating the two of them. In the corner of her eye, she spots people with various expressions upon their faces: disgust, sympathy, and bewilderment. "One day, I'll get you out of there.")_

She supposes she's lucky—to not have turned out to become one of the plentiful of pleasure slaves that her Master keeps. Originally, she'd meant to be one; however, her Master's wife had taken one disdainful look at her and said, ' _I tolerate what blasphemous activities you partake in with those concubines of yours, but I will not accept this filth to sleep in your bed. It's better off to give it to Kritten as a gift._ '

Kritten is a large, hulking beast with canine features. One that her owners use in order to…copulate with the slaves they no longer need before it devours the 'useless toys.' She'd seen him only once, and the six months thereafter were spent being unable to sleep properly due to the plague of nightmares of slaves left and right being raped and/or killed.

It had been another fortunate event for her that Master Jerugdiel had seen it to be such a waste to dispose of her so quickly, especially with how high quality she is. So, as a compromise, he'd given her to his only child as a toy to play with.

Artemia is a wonderful mistress and rarely punishes her; when she does, Goldie supposes that her reasons behind doing so are just. After all, Goldie is just nothing but a lowly slave in the eyes of the Celestial Dragons, and whatever beliefs she has should be quickly locked up alongside what is left of her conscious and heart.

A good slave is one that listens. A good slave is one that doesn't think or feel for their sole selfishness; the only importances that should be in their head and hearts are their masters.

( _"One day, I'll buy you! And together, we'll get to live however we want!" A blinding smile, such pretty eyes glittering with hope, and that familiar feeling blooming hotly in her chest._

 _She loves him. So, so very much. She wonders what he sees in her, a prisoner who can offer him nothing but hardships, and wishes that he'll be able to move on from her on the day that she has to go for good_.)

"What do you think about this dress, Goldie?"

Her mistress's voice snaps her out of her daydreams, and she quickly pushes back a memory from a time long lost to the back of her mind. Goldie smiles cordially, able to meet her mistress's eyes in the privacy of her mistress's bedroom.

Lately, Artemia has gradually began to grow lenient with her—treating her more as an equal than as a slave, so long as they're both alone in the room. Goldie supposes it may be because of her mistress's lack of friends and siblings, so it would only be natural for her, the one who's always been by her side, to fill in the role of an unauthorized 'friend.'

"It looks lovely on you, my Lady," Goldie responds, even if she sees no difference with the white dress her mistress wears as compared to that other white dress she'd worn a few minutes ago.

"Hmmmmm, should I wear a different color?" Artemia asks, twirling her fingers through silky blonde locks.

Goldie swallows silently. "The Master and your mother would be displeased to see you wear anything but white today," she reminds, remembering that the last time she'd allowed Artemia to wear a baby blue dress last year on their annual trip down below she'd been whipped ten times on her back.

"Ah. Yeah," Artemia frowns. "I wouldn't want you to get hurt. You wouldn't be able to enjoy going shopping with me tomorrow if you get punished!" Artemia pouts, crossing her arms petulantly.

"I would still go shopping with you regardless, my Lady." It is the truth. Just as she'd (maybe) wormed her way into Artemia's heart, her mistress has done the same to hers as well. It is difficult to not care for her mistress, who has been the only source of kindness in this dreary place. And although it may be a sad realization of how dependent she, a young woman, is on Artemia, a prepubescent girl who has yet bleed, for her survival, Goldie doesn't really have much of a choice.

"Yes, but you wouldn't enjoy it as much as I do!" Artemia exclaims. "Now, help me style my hair, will you? I want to look good in front of the peasants down below!" She laughs so prettily, like a bell's tinkle.

"As you wish, my Lady," Goldie obliges, doing as her mistress has ordered.

As she intricately braids a section of her mistress's hair, Goldie internally muses that she isn't really living such a terrible life.

( _"That trash that came along with you is dead."_ )

 **L. I. N. E.**

 _Don't snort, you fucking son of a bitch,_ she thinks as she reigns in the growing amusement swelling up inside of her. _You're fucking stronger than that. Don't. You. Dare_.

"Seriously?" Toni, one of grandfather's Marines, incredulously voices aloud. "Of all the—they have a base in Grove _sixty-nine_?"

From behind her, Reyes and most probably his friends guffaw with no restraint.

She glares witheringly at the laughing soldiers, envy shinning clear in her eyes. She can't laugh at any erotic or lewd jokes, lest' Garp gets it in his head that the bar isn't a good place to raise a child within.

(It really isn't, but that's where gossip travels through the quickest. If there's something that had stuck with her even past death, it's that she's a sucker for gossip.)

Bogard grimaces just a bit, and she doesn't miss the concerned looks he shoots her way.

Pretending to be ignorant of any malicious thoughts and actions happening around her, she bounces the large dark purple sphere—she should really think of a name for it—in front of her. For all intents and purposes, she looks like a three-year old girl having fun with her strangely glowing ball.

Another detail that she finds interesting is that these spheres can _bounce_ , which points to a certain kind of flexibility possessed by them. This brings to point if she can somehow liquidize them into a slime-like structure; maybe even something even more interesting…but first things first, she'll have to learn how to create them or make them go bye-bye.

She startles at the sound of doors being harshly opened; when she looks up, it's to the sight of an upset Garp stomping his way out.

She blinks and curiously tilts her head to the side. It's rare for her grandfather to get angry; what on Earth had annoyed him?

"Sir?" Bogard calls to, both of his eyebrows raised.

The soldiers of Garp's 1st and 2nd squads have also quieted down at the uncharacteristic anger on their superior's faces, and all of them began ridging their stances.

Garp hardly pays any mind; instead, his gaze zeroes in on her, and he is quick to pick her up and bring her close to his chest. In response to such treatment, she squeaks but doesn't protest.

"I'm going to ask one thing—only one thing—from you, Luffy," her grandfather starts off in a grave voice. " _Never_ stray from my side on this island, you hear me?"

Surprised, she answers without thinking, "Ugh, um, yes, Poppy."

But Garp doesn't stop there. "I'm serious, Luffy. _Never_ stray from my side. You have to promise me this."

Well, considering that at least thirty groves on this crime-ridden archipelago is _lawless_ , it'd most likely be in her best interest to _not_ run off without a guard (meat shield).

"Aye, sir!" She salutes to him, having to let go of her sphere to do so. The harmless ball of energy floats near her arm, glowing prettily.

Garp eyes the sphere with caution. "We'll also have to leave that on the ship," he says.

She stills. "Huh? But why?" She pouts. It's just an energy sphere pretending to be a _ball_ , nothing harmful and interesting about it.

Garp grimaces. "It's best if we don't attract to much attention to ourselves this time. Trust me on this, Lu. You don't want to be interesting now of all days," he sighs.

From the corner of her eye, she notices Bogard suddenly tensing up. "Sir, don't tell me…" He says, and there's a measure of unease and fear (?!) in his voice.

Garp nods, being able to make that single action look morose. "There are Celestial Dragons who have planned their vacation here on Sabaody."

Almost immediately, the Garp's soldiers begin murmuring and—she isn't just imagining this—there is a considerably dreary atmosphere that has suddenly appeared over their heads.

Something cold and ugly and long ancient twists menacingly in her gut. She looks up at Garp's face, trying with all her ridiculous age to find any fault that he may be _lying_.

But there is none, much to her misfortune. He is actually serious. There is a fucking family of Celestial Dragons on this very archipelago in this instant and holy fuck, how can she _forget_.

Slaves. Slaves, slaves, slaves. Sabaody Archi-fucking-pelago is one of the strongest trading society of the importing and exporting of _slaves_.

No wonder Garp wanted her to look as inconspicuous as possible. If, and this is a big and most probable if, she does manage to catch the eye of a Celestial Dragon, then she might as well wish her hopes and dreams of flipping this crazy world upside down. She has the appearance of a young child—something easy to imprint and hold down and _train_ , and what makes her even more appealing is that she's a Devil Fruit User, something rarely seen in the Blues and even in the Grand Line.

She swallows down the lump in her throat, and knows that now is the best time to listen to Garp's orders.

 **L. I. N. E.**

In the end, despite the danger (quite literally) lurking just around this grove or the next, Garp doesn't postpone whatever adventure the two of them are supposed to have that day. The ridiculous reason is, and she quotes, ' _I've been planning this since you came onboard, Lu! And it's Sabaody!_ Sabaody! _There's no better place for us grandfather and granddaughter to strengthen our bonds in!'_

She doesn't really mind all that much. She's locked up her large energy sphere in a compartment back in the ship to prevent it from following after her, so she knows she just looks like any other kid roaming about in Sabaody, and thus has nothing to worry about. If any Celestial Dragon were to take an interest in her—well, that just goes to show how adorable and special she must be.

(Please, God, don't let the big bad Celestial Dragons take her and chain her up. She was only just kidding.)

Another reason why she doesn't mind so much is because it's _Sabaody_. Sabaody as in _Sabaody with its various shops and that one big fucktard of an amusement park_. She'd be a complete and utter moron if she let slip the opportunity to roam about in one of the most industrial and commercial island (or, well, group of islands) in Paradise at this young of an age, and even have _fun_.

And maybe, if she's lucky, she might even come across a bookstore that might have a book pertaining to energy. Or maybe a souvenir shop since she really hasn't gotten anything for the folks back in Foosha Village yet.

Unbeknownst to her scheming, Garp delightfully strolls down the path leading to the closest 30th grove. He's forgone his Marine attire for the usual khaki shorts and Hawaiian-themed shirt that he usually wears whenever he's dropping by to visit her at Dawn Island.

He looks like an incredibly tall, jolly, and old man who's out on his walk with his unsuspecting granddaughter.

This façade of his has already attracted a few low-life thugs who'd apparently gotten it into their heads that they'd be able to make a quick cash-in by assaulting them; well, jokes on them, but they were wrong— _so_ wrong.

They'd left quite a trail of twitching bodies—courtesy of Garp's quick usage and amazing control of what she assumes to be is his Conqueror's Haki—before they arrive in Sabaody Archipelago's infamous bubble-based amusement park.

She can hardly remember the last time she's been to an amusement park, but she's sure that whatever mediocre rides that existed in her past life was _nothing_ compared to the exceptional feats of science before her.

"Amazing, isn't it?" Garp captures her attention and, when she looks down, he's grinning from ear to ear at her.

Speechlessly, she nods. She looks back up at the amusement park's large entrance, at its brilliantly shinning letters that spell out ' _Sabaody Park',_ and belatedly realizes that this'll be her first time going to such a place with a family member.

In her past life, her parents weren't quite the most… _lax_ of people. They put the word _serious_ to _seriously_ , and were extremely traditional. She couldn't really blame them all that much for inhibiting her for having the same kind of fun that her peers did, since they were, in their own way, protective of her and whatever culture they grew up in was completely abysmal from the culture that _she_ grew up in. They hadn't really approved of her _unique_ tastes (never had, never will), but their discouragement only encouraged her to be better at hiding her interests.

Now that she was thinking back on it, she supposes that the most fun she and her family had ever done was to go out to watch action movies. The only other person in her family that she ever really _liked_ was her younger sister (and her nephew too).

She is silent throughout the entire process of Garp paying the reception lady the minimum fee for one adult ticket and one child ticket. There is a maelstrom of emotions whirling within her gut, but she decides to stick with the simplest of them all: excitement.

She tugs on Garp's hair thrice, which is a nonverbal cue between the two of them that she wants to be let down, and smooths down the creases on her dress. Once she's deemed herself presentable, she looks up at Garp and grins widely.

"Where to?"

The air around Garp seems to shift before her very eyes; much to her delusion, the particles there seem to practically _vibrate_ with excitement. "Food, of course! We Monkeys can't go out on an adventure with an empty stomach!"

And, as if scripted, both of their stomachs growl in tandem. They both share a knowing grin full of teeth before they're off invading the numerous food stalls.

As she and Garp conquer whatever food stalls they come across, she recognizes a few delicacies shared with her old world. Hot dogs, corndogs hamburgers, onion rings, French fries, smoked turkey (?) leg, cinnamon buns, ice cream, fruit shakes, iced tea, and even the infamous cotton candy. She can say for sure as she takes a few bites from Garp's meal, which is basically a one of everything, that they all taste great; however, she is quite sore to see that there are no candy apples—not even a slightly glazed apple!

She's just about to doze off against her grandfather, her tummy full and her head up in the clouds, when there's a sudden _shift_ in the air that jolts her awake as if she'd just been zapped by lightning.

"Poppy?" She calls out to once she realizes that he had caused this sudden shift in the air—this sudden surge of _power_. "What's wrong?" She can't help but ask once she notices the way his features are contorted sharply: his eyebrows furrowed deeply to emphasize how sharp his eyes are, and his wrinkles looking much more deeper with how strongly he frowns.

"We have to go," he says only before he's dropping his smoked turkey into the trashcan (?!) next to their bench and gathering her up in his arms.

"H-Huh?" She stammers out, surprised by his quite out of character actions. "Go? But why?" They'd been having so much fun just a minute ago.

"It's best not to stay here out in the open," is his only elaboration as he skillfully weaves through a crowd of people in order to reach the inconspicuous area between two stalls.

One thing alarms here though. "They…?" She voices aloud, mulling over whom on Earth could he be referring to. However, before she could get the chance to overanalyze his words, she notices something.

It is… _quiet_.

Dread bubbles lowly in her gut, swirling tremulously like a growing maelstrom.

It is the middle of broad daylight and they're in an amusement park for crying out loud—it _shouldn't_ be quiet.

"What's going on?" She asks in the lowest volume she could muster.

Garp doesn't answer her; just holds her closer to his chest as he peers out of their hiding spot.

There's a crowd of people gathered out in front of them, their backs turned their way and—

-and they're _kneeling_ , and she isn't that much of a scatterbrain to forget its significance in this world.

The Celestial Dragons are here.

She watches, silent and unmoving, as a group of people treads through the open path that had been created solely for them. From her position, she sees a pair of heavily armored men on either side of a…a _beast_ that's so large it could rival the size of _two_ elephants.

A couple—married, she presumes—dressed in heavy garbs of white with bubble helmets on them are seated atop the beast. They both scan the crowd of people on their knees before them, and she doesn't have to be within a feet of them to see the condescendence that's radiating off of them.

Once they've passed by, she can't help but be interested by the pair of women that follows just a few feet behind. One of them is obviously a Celestial Dragon, dressed in white and with a bubble helmet the blocks off the sunlight from reaching her shiny blonde hair; the other, however, is dressed in a provocative pink dress with a collar wrapped snugly around her neck that has a chain that trails down the length of her torso before being wrapped around her hips.

This is her first time seeing a slave, and Luffy doesn't quite know how to feel. She wants to run up and shove the Human Rights Principles and Code on Conduct up in their faces; to run up to the slave and tell her to _run_ , _run while you can_ , because _you deserve better than this_.

But no. She does nothing of those sorts, and continues to stay frustratingly quiet like a meerkat in its hole as it waits for its predators to run off. _Coward_ , she calls herself in her head because she _is_ one.

Eventually, the backs of _those people_ disappear over the horizon and the tension in the air gradually dissipates to the point that people are able to shakily get up and return to their normal activities.

A few more minutes pass before Garp decides that they can get out of the tight space.

"Sorry about that, Lu," Garp apologizes to her with that beaming grin of his, looking for all the world that _nothing is wrong when there clearly is_ _ **something terribly horrible**_.

There is a tightness in her throat that unclogs when she swallows. She doesn't feel like roaming around the amusement park anymore, especially with such danger lurking about.

"I…" Her voice cracks for a moment. "C-Can we go buy books instead? Please?" She asks, her gaze set firmly on the groundin front of her grandfather's shoes.

Garp is unnervingly silent for a few seconds, a short period of time that she spends fidgeting.

Finally, she feels a large hand being set upon her head.

"Alright," he acquiesces, his voice light but she knows all too well that it's forced. "Let's go buy some books."

As her grandfather proceeds to the nearest exit, he fills the atmosphere around them with his ramblings and regales her stories of the first time he'd come here with two of his friends and a senior officer.

She stays silent, her thoughts too full of white noise with sprinkles of her thoughts.

One such train revolves around and around her head, its edges scraping against the edges of her brain quite painfully.

 _The Marines let this evil exist and thrive_.

 **L. I. N. E.**

"I just don't _get it_ ," she complains, leafing through one of the books that her grandfather had bought for her after some persuasion. _Any object that has mass when stationary also has an equivalent amount of energy called rest energy (i.e. Potential Energy)_ , the starting paragraph begins as and this is the fifth time she's read it. "I mean, I know what exactly energy is and what not—" and holy shit are there a ton of types of it "—but I just don't get why I can't use my powers when I already know where it comes from!"

Yijen hums soothingly, looking far too interested in braiding her hair than listening to her complain about the same thing for third time this day. "Have you thought about the mechanisms of your power?" He asks her.

"What? Of course I have. It's the first thing I wanted to know about when I cracked all these books _open_ ," she can't help but snap, her usually compliantly happy mood gone and fucked a hundred ways sideways. The fact that it's been two days and they're still stuck on this island doesn't make her any less irritated; in fact, the growing danger of being made a slave by the Celestial Dragon has only made her moodier.

Pressure has always made her emotional and mental stability just a tad bit looser than usual.

"Why don't we start at the beginning," Yijen suggests, to which she makes a noise of protest because _she's tired of reading from page one_. "No, like, from the very beginning. Practical-wise. It's a fact that you have access to your powers," he explains, poking at one of the small purple spheres that float contentedly around them. "It's another fact that you don't know how to _open_ that access, yes?"

She rolls her eyes but grunts an affirmative.

"Well, try to remember about that time when you used your powers. There's bound to be more of a clue there than in these books of yours," Yijen recommends. "I remember when I was in medical school and I found it easier to solve problems by taking on a more hands-on approach."

"You mean you experimented on live human beings to learn how they got sick in the first place?" She retorts, a dull sharpness to her voice that says she doesn't really mean it as a jab.

"I only experimented on dead bodies," he clarifies, and woah is that not creepy at all.

She gives him the most suspicious side-eye, before she does as she's told. She closes her eyes and tries to remember, letting the memories of _that night_ resurface to the forefront of her mind.

She hasn't really mulled over too much of what had happened that night, because it had been quite a mess that she was all to glad to sweep under a rug. The ocean isn't as terrifying as it had been a few days ago, but it still _is_. Just remembering it, being trapped within its icy depths and having hostile tendrils of something dark and nasty and ancient pulling her down _down_ _ **down**_ —

"Luffy," a soft voice stops her from drowning. "It's okay. You're not there anymore, you're up here, on land." Palms are being kneaded deeply into the knots that her muscles in her shoulders have become. " _Breathe_. Five in, seven out. You can do it."

She breathes in and counts, breathes out and counts, and does the whole process over and over again until she doesn't feel like she's being dragged back into the abyss.

"Maybe we should stop. One of these books just _has_ to have something that might help," Yijen tells her, but his voice is just a murmur in her ear that's easily drowned out by the static noise that fills her eardrums.

She remembers being submerged several feet below deck in a vast world of cold and darkness, remembers that feeling of helplessness once again as she inches closer and closer to death's hand, remembers that unrelenting will to live because _she won't let herself be killed again!_

She remembers a voice— _You didn't let me die. Don't let me die. I give you permission to use me—_ and this bomb being set off inside of her. This sudden surge of power that enters inside of her, that circulates through her veins like blood and oxygen, before every ounce of it is being concentrated to the tips of her fingers and they just swirl out into the water and creating little whirlpools of—

—of _energy._

Oh.

 _Oh_.

"I'm such a moron," she breathes out at three as she opens her eyes. "I get it. _I. Get. It_." She enunciates each word, scouring for that one book that detailed only tenth-grade Physics. When she finds it buried underneath _The Correlation between Science and Life_ and another orange-covered book, she plucks it out and proceeds to flip through the pages.

"Luffy?" Yijen sounds concerned.

"Here!" She exclaims, nearly slamming the book into Yijen's face. "The first law of Thermodynamics—the Conservation of Energy! It states here that energy can't be created or destroyed, no matter if it is an isolated or closed system! But the amount of it either changes or not over time depending on whether or not what kind of system the energy is trapped within and—"

"Okay, stop," Yijen halts her just as he's pushing the book away from his face. "As an academic, I appreciate your excitement but wouldn't it be best to _apply_ what you've just learned?"

She frowns, the scientific method bulldozing its way through her head, but stops. She already has the question— _What is a way to activate my powers_ , has already done the research, and has even constructed a deadbeat hypothesis. All that's left is to _experiment_.

"Okay. Yeah. Let's experiment." She agrees, placing the book down on the ground and closing it, its bright green color mocking her. She breathes in, holds, and breathes out. Placing her hands atop of it, she closes her eyes and concentrates.

For a while, there is nothing. She feels nothing beneath her hands, sees nothing but the back of her eyelids, but she doesn't give up.

Energy is everywhere, little as it may be, and this book is one of them. Somewhere inside of it, there is energy stored within it due to the gravity forcing it down upon the floor that will be used later once its opened and its pages are leafed through by somebody.

She knows it's there and, with that one thought, an image sparks to life before her very eyes. It looks like a very large cobweb made of much smaller cobwebs, each line glowing in varying luminescence. Some are brighter while others are dimmer, but she's seen enough to _understand_.

Gravity has always been strongest in the center of the object, so it isn't a wonder to find the source of the book's potential energy at its very core.

 _Will you come with me?_ She coaxes the energy with her own, clumsily pulling it into her body. For its seemingly small source, its fuel is endless—an acting entropy, where the Earth's gravity continuously fills up the gap she's creating—and she stops once she feels like she's taken enough.

Slowly, she pulls her hands away from the book and lets it build up to the tips of her fingers. For a moment, she finds it difficult to push the borrowed energy out of her; however, she feels her own energy ( _this is yours and only yours)_ aid her in pushing out the foreign energy.

When she opens her eyes, she sees two little purple spheres floating in front of her, just before the tips of her fingers.

Hesitantly, she pokes one of them and it bobbles to and fro. She pulls onto the rest of the purple spheres floating around her, counts each one of them, and grins widely.

Twelve. _Twelve_. Holy shit, she's done it—she's learned how to produce these energy spheres, and she can't help the laugh that bubbles out of her throat because _hah!_ Ha! Ha! Ha! She's learned how to use a part of her powers!

When she turns to look at Yijen, there's a crazed sort of glint in her eyes that makes the smile on Yijen's face drop.

"Luffy, no—"

"Luffy, _yes_."

 **L. I. N. E.**

The hour after that is, to summarize it all, quite a disaster. Now that she's learned how to produce these spheres, she goes absolutely batshit crazy with the knowledge. She creates spheres left and right—even up and down, placing her hands atop whatever surface she can.

"Luffy, stop!" Yijen tries to stop her—really, he does; it's just he's at a major disadvantage. She can transform her spheres into a carpet that flies at a speed that far surpasses the average human being, which she uses to evade his grasp, and countless other spheres that she uses to barricade Yijen away from her.

Currently, they're somewhere in the lower deck that she has never ventured off to before. It's somewhat dim down here, and she has to rely on the faint glow of her spheres to guide her path.

"Sorry, Yijen-sensei!" She yells out to him, where he's trapped several feet behind her courtesy of her beloved spheres. She wonders if being below ground surface creates a greater source for gravitational potential energy and, to test her hypothesis, she places her hands atop the cold metal plate of the wall.

"Wait, Luffy, don't—!"

She giggles, feeling the foreign energy tingle into her veins. There doesn't seem to be a difference in energy output into her body, but her hypothesis had been weak from the start considering that she was just a few feet below ground, which brings to question what if she was more than a _hundred_ feet below….

She's snapped out of her thoughts when the energy surging into her veins somehow shifts into…something else. It's still energy and, when she checks, the flow of it into her body doesn't seem all that dangerous; however, this energy feels… _different_.

It's like eating a different kind of citrus fruit. Like, if gravitational potential energy 'tasted' like oranges, then this new kind of energy 'tasted' like a lemon or a grapefruit?

The dimly lit light bulb overhead flickers on and off for a while, before it just dies out like a flame that had been snuffed out.

Bemused and somewhat creeped out, she removes her hands from the metal wall and looks down at it. There's a kind of warm tingling to it now—nothing like all the other times when she'd sucked energy and there'd been a kind of heaviness to her gut as if she was full. It…felt as if she'd been recharged? Or wrapped somewhat snugly with a thin blanket?

Licking her lips, she reverses the pathway of the energy flowing through her—letting out what she'd taken. Small purple spheres come to life from the tips of her fingers like magic, contributing to the glow that the rest of her spheres emit.

Then, before her very eyes, a differently colored sphere suddenly blooms to a perfect sphere from the palms of her hands. Unlike the dark purple ones she'd grown accustomed to, this one was a pretty shade of light blue—cyan? Turquoise?—and emitted a glow that was considerably brighter than her dark purple ones.

She watches in quiet awe with a dash of confusion as a few of these spheres come to existence before they lazily float around her, mixing in with the dark purple ones.

When she looks back at her fingers that are _still_ producing spheres, she blinks when she sees _another_ differently colored sphere blossom from her hands—this one a pretty dark red color.

She curls her hands into little fists—the signal for when the production should stop—and stares at the four dark red spheres that move to join its brethren (?), feeling much colder than she had been before.

"…What."

 **L. I. N. E.**

Garp, with all of his paternal power over her, promptly grounds her.

She can't honestly blame the man because somehow, in someway, she had managed a power outage that rendered one of the ship's generators useless. Furthermore, it was just her luck that she broke one of the generators that fueled the ship's turbines.

"I'm afraid you'll have to move your ETD by a couple more days, sir," one of the Marine mechanics stationed in Sabaody is the one to deliver the bad news. "Whatever happened to one of your generators, it must have affected one of its lines. Its producing voltage as usual, but it isn't able to direct it to where it should be. I'd recommend replacing it with a gas one, in the case this might happen again in the future and since it'd take much longer to fix your current generator."

She internally sweats over the numerous pairs of eyes on her form, and wisely doesn't look away from where her newly colored spheres are floating quite happily around her.

After the price of the new generator had been settled and the Marine mechanic had bid goodbye, Bogard makes his way over to her with quite the nasty twitch in his cheek. "What possessed you to destroy our generator?"

She winces. "I didn't really _mean_ to destroy it," she protests.

Bogard gives her a long-suffering look, before he turns to Yijen who was sitting right next to a snoring Garp.

"Next time, no matter what, don't let her get out of your sight," he stresses, and Yijen's features twist into something akin to biting a lemon.

"S'not my fault she _shielded_ me out," Yijen grumbles, rolling his eyes.

For a split second, Bogard's features soften into something that seems _very_ interesting to her, but her attention is stolen away when something hard slams onto her head that has her crying out in pain.

"Ow!" She clutches onto the growing bump on her head. "Poppy, why?!" She complains, utterly betrayed, and realizes that this is the first time he's _ever_ hit her. Wow.

"Don't go breaking my precious Melody!" Garp scolds her, and she wilts like a dandelion flower's pollen scattering across the wind.

 _I'll break your face next time,_ she withholds, knowing that she'd just get another bonk in the head if she voices it aloud.

 **L. I. N. E.**

She's well versed in the art of being grounded to know that it sucks. She's had her fair share of being scolded for hours long end by her first parents, and being sent straight to her bedroom after giving up her beloved electronics to her parents for them to hide away in some cabinet for a week. However, if there's one thing she knows is that being grounded is the most opportune time to sneak out.

Of course, if Yijen had been the one watching after her, hell would freeze over first before he would ever let her off of the ship. Fortunately for her, miss fortune's on her side this time around since it's Reyes who's on babysitting duty this time around and Reyes is, like, a total bro.

"You risked getting a much severe punishment for a couple of _books_?" Reyes sounds incredulous, and she doesn't blame him. It must look ridiculous in his eyes; but, in her perspective as a total book whore, it's a totally valid reason.

"Yep," she says with a pop of the p, unashamedly carrying her own paper bag of books. She'd only bought four this time, with each one of them being as narrow as her middle finger, and the reasons for so were because she didn't carry a lot of money with her and also since she only needed the ones detailing more about heat and actual electricity.

"Huh. I thought for sure you wouldn't want to go out again after, well, your first look at those big-shots," Reyes hums, side-eying her with something that looks sort of mocking. News had traveled fast throughout the Melody about the Celestial Dragons having appeared so _closely_ to her and Garp; it was less of gossip and more of a warning to every member to _not_ step off the ship in civilian clothes.

Bogard had been the one to tell her that the Marine uniform had become a pseudo shield for the Marines to avoid being plucked by the Celestial Dragons and turned into a slave. Although there were still cases of Marines being _picked_ , there was a lesser probability if one was in their uniform.

"It's been a half a week already. They should be gone by now. 'Sides, I don't look interesting at all," she points out with a shrug.

Reyes snorts as if he finds something amusing about her statement, and she's just about to question it when she hears a commotion in one of the alleyways they're passing through.

She stops, her curiosity getting the better of her as she peers into one of the many dark alleyways of Grove 14. They're currently traversing through one of the quieter depressed areas of the Archipelago, so it's a wonder to hear so much noise coming from just one area.

"Oi, kid! Come on, we're wasting daylight here. Your gramps's gonna be back 'fore us if you don't pick up the pace!" Reyes shouts out to her.

"Coming!" She yells out in return. "Wonder what's going on there?" She muses, just about to turn away and walk off when she hears the voice of a _woman_ crying for help amidst the jeers and laughs of men. _Oh fuck_ , she thinks. She's frozen in her tracks, and she robotically turns her head to look back at the alley.

"Aw, dun' be like dat, honey. We're just 'ere tah have some fun, right boys?" One man coos particularly loudly, and his voice is lost in the myriad of laughter that booms out.

"…Reyes…" She calls for, hearing her voice come out as uncertain and _scared_. She doesn't realize she's trembling until there's a hand being placed upon her head that stops her from shaking so much.

"I got this from here, kid," Reyes says, his voice as cold as the sunken depths of the sea and, when she looks up, his eyes are a perfect complement. "You stay here, 'kay?"

She nods, clutching her bag of books closer to her chest. She's met victims of rape before, most of whom were patients and a colleague of hers who'd miraculously moved on her from own experience, but she'd never been so close to an _attempted rape_ before.

Rape isn't a joke, she understands this clearly. There's nothing funny about it. It's real and terrible and traumatizing to the victim, because this is _forced sex_ and sex should _always_ be consensual. To ignore somebody telling you to _stop_ , is basically you ignoring their rights as a human being and treating them the same as cattle.

The very thought of it brings chills to her arms. She's been molested before, when she'd been drunk and dancing and suddenly there were hands rubbing circles into her hips then moving up _up_ to her breasts and squeezing them to the point of pain and she'd tried pushing the hands away but they'd just squeezed harder that she thought they'd be ripped off but then—

"Oi, you bastards! What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" Reyes's aggravated roar cuts through her train of thought.

"Huh? Who the fuck do yo—oh shit! A Marine!" One man curses, and there's the sound of panicked yelps from the men (would be or already rapists) before a dozen or so pairs of feet can be heard stampeding deeper into the alleyway before they can't be heard any longer.

—but then somebody had saved, just like Reyes had with this woman, and she feels just as relieved and grateful as she had back then in that bar, on that dance floor, and no unwanted hands on her any longer.

"…Reyes?" She calls out when quite a long moment passes by in total silence. "Are you—is she—are you both okay?" She stumbles on her words as she creeps closer to the dark alley and peeks into it.

A narrow shroud of light filters through the narrow space between the buildings, illuminating the trash-scattered environment and the woman who's lying in Reyes's arms and covered in an alarming amount of injuries and dirt.

"Fuck nuggets," she blurts out, her eyes assessing every inch of the woman that doesn't look human to begin with what with how dirty and _bloody_ she is.

"Language, kid," Reyes snaps as he hefts up the woman and stands up.

Fuck language, she wants to say but instead suggests, "We should get her to Yijen."

Reyes doesn't need to be told twice. He's already several feet ahead of her, sprinting for all he's worth.

She curses, musters up a gravity carpet underneath her feet, and zooms off after him.

 **L. I. N. E.**

"Oh! Luffy! I've been looking every—" Yijen pauses, squinting a bit to realize that the bundle of shit he'd initially assumed Reyes to be holding was actually bundle of an _injured person_. "Poseidon, who's that you're holding?!" He exclaims, immediately pushing aside a curtain to reveal an unoccupied bed.

"I've no idea! We found her in an alleyway surrounded by this group of low lives," Reyes explains as he gently places her on the bed.

"Why were you—you know what? Nevermind. I don't care anymore," Yijen huffs, shooting both her and Reyes a cold glare. "Could you go grab my tools for me, Reyes?"

"Ugh…"

"I'll do it," she immediately offers up, well-versed in how Yijen works with how long she's spent imprisoning herself in the infirmary.

"Thank you, Luffy. Just go get me a basin of water and a rag, Reyes. A _clean_ one," Yijen specifies.

Reyes scoffs as he rolls as his eyes but, together with her, they both hurry off to get the things Yijen needs. When they return, Yijen is methodically inspecting the patient with a grim look on his face.

As Reyes hands Yijen the basin of water and the rag, she on the other hand is laying out the tools atop the metal tray.

"You found her in an alleyway, you say?" Yijen brings up as he wipes away the dirt and grime off of the woman's surprisingly fair skin.

"Yeah. Luffy heard her crying for help, so I went ahead to go check. These thugs were circling her so I think she might have been…" Reyes shares a hard and cold look with Yijen who shares the sentiment.

… _She might have been raped_ , Luffy finishes in her mind, her hands shaking as she clutches the edges of her dress.

"…It looks like it, but we'll see," Yijen explains. He drops off the grimy rag into the basin of now brown water and picks up a pair of sharp scissors. He smoothly slices through the dusty pink fabric of the woman's dress, carefully peels it off to reveal purple bruises blooming just about _everywhere_ on the woman's skins, and begins his diagnosis by gently pressing down.

"Ughhh…" The woman groans, face scrunching up in pain; still, she remains unconscious.

"Her ribs are probably fractured. Worst-case scenario, they're broken just like her collarbones. Her sternum doesn't appear to be fractured, thank Poseidon, but it _is_ mostly definitely bruised," Yijen reports, grimacing with each detail he's listed so far. He continues on, disinfecting whatever lacerations he may find with a prepared mixture of soap and water and gently dabbing on it until it's dry to apply topical antibiotic cream. "She might have internal bleeding, but it's best if she goes under surgery for now if we want to do anything with her fractured bones. I'll have to screw in plates for the ones that we can't do anything about," Yijen sighs, wiping down the blood on his jacket before rubbing his forehead.

 _Dear God_ , Luffy thinks. She's heard similar cases of this, even dealt in a couple of them, but most of those are particularly reserved for those stationed in the E.R. and still it's pretty horrifying to hear of them.

"Help me get her up, Reyes. I still have to check her back," Yijen instructs.

Reyes obliges and carefully maneuvers the woman to a sitting position, being extra gentle in order to avoid jostling her any further. He's hardly affected by the blatant nudity; in fact, he appears more angry and worried than anything else, which is something since the only expression she's seen him wear so far was one of irritation.

Yijen mutters a thanks and continues peeling off the leftover fabric sticking to the woman's back. Instantly, Yijen freezes, his dark eyes locked onto the woman's back.

"What's wrong?" Luffy asks after several moments of wasteful silence. She goes on over to see what on Earth's the problem; what she sees has her rooted to the ground, a cold feeling of dread settling icily at the bottom of her gut with a contrasting feeling of utter anger blazing within her heart like hell's inferno.

Unconsciously, a red sphere pops out from her hand with how _heated_ her body suddenly is.

"Hey, what's the hold up?" Reyes snaps, eyebrows scrunching down deeply.

As if having found his breath, Yijen breathes in long and deeply. He places down the leftover fabric he'd been clutching close to his chest alongside the rest of the woman's tattered dress. "Lay her down," Yijen orders, voice slightly trembling.

Luffy looks up at him, alarmed.

"Huh? Oh, ugh, sure," Reyes clumsily utters and does as he's told. "She doesn't have any injuries on her back?" He asks, both of his eyebrows raised highly in doubt.

Yijen purses his lips, looking down at the unconscious woman laid out before him. "Were you aware?" The doctor asks, voice low and deceptively calm.

"Huh? Aware of what?" Reyes inquires, looking even more confused.

She can't blame him. She's as confused as he is.

"Of course you weren't. I should've expected it from you." Yijen lets out a long, drawn-out sigh. His fingers wrap around something long and winding. He curls it around his fingers like a leash and—

—it's a _chain_ , she realizes. So soaked in blood it is that she'd mistook it for some kind of rope-like accessory like that Alibaba from Magi wore.

Her eyes widen at the realization that the woman that she and Reyes had picked up was—

"…She's a slave," Reyes breathes out, sounding as if the air had been punched out of his lungs.

Yijen silently nods before he lets go of the chain, letting it dangle over the woman's arm and swing slowly like some kind of pendulum over the edge of the bed.

"So what? Do we have some kind of rule against helping slaves?" Reyes asks, voice a pitch deeper with something dark and dangerous lurking beneath it. There's an unveiled threat implied there, but nobody is wise enough in the room to point it out.

Yijen bits his bottom lip, deep enough to turn the soft muscle red. "Not explicitly we do," he eventually reveals. He plops himself upon the nearest sit, back hunched over and elbows propped on his knees. He rests his chin atop his interlocked hands, looking calculatingly at the woman on the bed. "The Marines hardly discriminates as to who falls under our medical treatment because a body is still a body whether or not they're rich or poor, or even innocent or guilty. It's the highest-ranking officer on board who gets the final say as to what happens with a complicated patient," he says it as if he'd recited it numerous times from a book. "However, we do have an unspoken golden rule that even you must surely be aware of," Yijen huffs, looking pointedly up at Reyes.

Reyes merely raises a brow. "And this golden rule is?"

Yijen narrows his eyes and what comes out of his mouth rocks her to her very core.

"Any being under the ownership of the Celestial Dragons is entirely out of our hands."

 **L. I. N. E.**

 **Why on earth would Garp hide from the Celestial Dragons?**

If he had been alone, he'd have no real reason to hide. He's a Marine with outstanding achievements, and the Celestial Dragons are even (might even be) willing to overlook his status as a D. for having captured their most difficult opponent, the late Pirate King. He's only hiding right _now_ because he's being cautious. He's with S!Luffy, and she's as much of a D. as he is right now. The only difference between the two is that she doesn't have any sort of public or reputable protection that would shield her from the Celestial Dragons' interest. If they'd wanted her, they could easily get her and all Garp would be able to do is _watch_ despite how much he may fight back or protest. He is only a Marine, one who serves the law, and he can't dispute those who are socially and politically _above him_. It may seem quite uncharacteristic of him—but remember, this is the man who's hidden two children of D. on an island (one the child of the Pirate King and the other the child of the World's Most Wanted Man). He's smarter and more careful than most people give him credit for. Moreover, he's much more prideful than to kneel and join the others _willingly_ to the 'Fake Nobles.' He only does so in the most extreme of situations (e.g. when he's in front of them on his own, and _has_ to do it in order to avoid appearing rude before the so called World Nobles).

But, well, that's just the results of how I've analyzed his character.

 **SHANKS! Will he not appear in the story like** _ **ever?!**_

Oh my. Some of you might have been mistaken, but Shanks really will appear in the story just he did in canon (with a few tweaks here and there that I'm sure you'll love as much as I do ehehe~). S!Luffy's just on vacation with her gramps, but he'll bring her back to Foosha Village within the year or the next. :D

 **So...Slave?**

A topic that I was just dying to touch on. More of it will be explained in the next chapter, as well as the so called 'ethics' of both medical and judiciary professionals. The showdown between morals and duty will be immediately targeted in the next chapter so stay tuned!

 **Marine Luffy?**

Oh, whoops. I've coincidentally dropped my hammer on this mug saying " _Marine!S!Luffy_." What a tragic accident, and for such a thing to occur, whatever will we do now? Oh well, I'm just going to use one of my mugs: " _Pirate!S!Luffy_ ," " _RevolutionaryS!Luffy_ ," " _BountyHunter!S!Luffy_ ," " _Queen!S!Luffy"_ or the " _Journalist!S!Luffy_ " instead to drink my coffee with.

Meh. Whichever one will do, but oh no I've dropped my hammer on another mug—!

Anyways, I hope you guys will be able to hear from me soon enough again! Sorry for the delay but remember that this fic will _not_ be dropped. I've invested too much time and research and plot bunnies on this one. Thank you to those who've waited so far! If you have any more questions, just review and PM me. I appreciate those who've sent me their criticisms, POIs, and compliments


End file.
